But even that, she felt, wasn’t the real reason. She did not press him, and together they planned what they were to do. The lease on Mary’s house was finished in a month, and she could go away with her sister-in-law, Rachel, and the two children, to Kentucky, where a sister of her mother’s lived. And then, quietly, Philip could send the twins there, and come himself. He would bring old Molly to help care for them.
“Rachel loves children,” said Mary, “and she’ll never be separated from mine. She’d like two more in the household.” (Only she wished they weren’t Naomi’s children ... they would always be reminding him of Naomi. It seemed impossible to be rid of Naomi. The shadow of her was always there, coming between them.)
After a long silence, she said suddenly, “You do want to marry me, don’t you, Philip?”
As he answered, it seemed to him that he came back from a great distance. “Marry you? Marry you? Why, of course I do. What have you been thinking of? What have I just been saying?”
“I don’t want it to be because you think you have to ... because of that night at the stable.”
“No ... no ... of course not. I want to marry you. I couldn’t think of not doing it. Where did you get such an idea?”
“I don’t know ... only you’re so queer. It’s as if I didn’t make any difference any more ... as if you could do without me.”
For a moment he turned cross. “That’s nonsense! And you know it. I can’t help being like this ... I’ll be better later on.”
“I don’t know.”
But he did not try to convince her. He simply sat staring into the shadows of the old room and at last he said, “And then when everything is settled, I want to go back to Africa ... to Megambo.”