“Are you frightened, Mamma?”
“Yes, my boy, my Addie ... I’m frightened ... I’m frightened....”
“And shall your boy keep you safe, safe from the wind?”
“Yes, my darling, keep me safe!” she said, with a wan little laugh. “For I’m really, really frightened ... I’ve been sitting alone downstairs ... and it blew so, it blew so: the lamps blew and the shutters banged and I’m so frightened now!...”
The boy drew her on his knees and held her very tight:
“Silly Mummy! Are you really frightened?”
She made herself very small in his arms, between his knees, nestled up against him and repeated, as in a dream:
“Yes, I’m so frightened, I’m so frightened!...”
And, without a further glance at her husband sitting there clouded in the blue smoke of his cigarette, she as it were crept into the heart of her child, whispering, all pale and wan, with a wan smile and her eyes full of anxious wonder: