“Better than your white rat that died?”
“I wish you would not talk about Pip. He is dead, poor darling. I think of him often at night. I loved him. I love him still. Do not let us talk about him.”
“Kitty, will you promise?”
“What, Nan—what?”
“That you will not ever say anything again about—about Augusta and me.”
“What about you?”
“What you overheard.”
“Well, if you do not wish it. But why will you not tell? You are afraid of her; what power has she over you?”
“I do not know. I mean I do; I want to tell you, but I don’t dare to. Let us talk about your rat—poor Pip.”
“How very queer you are, Nan! If there is a subject that I hate talking about it is about Pip.”