Cecily heard the door open. She and Ellen turned their heads simultaneously, and then at a swift movement of Cecily’s, Ellen sat still and let Cecily go through the hall.
“Dropped in to see the tree,” said Dick, trying to be jocular.
Then he held out his arms and Cecily crept into them, both of them too glad for the blessed relief which had come to their starved emotions to question the right or safety of such an end to their separation. It was such sheer joy to be together again, to see each other, to deliberately forget all issues in the hour of delight. Dick had not let himself think of his hunger for the children. But to hold them now, play the old games with them, hear them laugh, try their toys——
“I wasn’t sure you’d let me in,” he said apologetically, “or I’d have brought some presents for all of you.”
The tears in her eyes and the joy of her smile were consolation for that.
Because the children were so small and ready to accept all events and because Ellen’s eyes never pried, it was very easy for them. After a while the children had to go to bed and Dick and Cecily took them up together in a riot of fun. It was all as it had been, thought Dick. He drew the familiar blue blanket up over Leslie, who was too tired to struggle and resent being put to bed. And Dorothea put her arms around his neck in that same baby way.
When they went down again they found that Ellen had spread a cloth on a little table before the fire and left supper there for them. She went out. They heard the back door close and her firm heavy footsteps crunch through the snow. And embarrassment settled over the man and the woman sitting in such apparent comfort there. They were paying already for that leap to emotional conclusions. Each of them asking fearfully what all this meant and what was passing in the mind of the other, each trying to avoid subjects which might hurt the other and conscious of the multitude of dangerous subjects. The supper gave them something more to do, but that, too, came to an end and Dick carried the little table out through the dining-room to the kitchen. Cecily tried to busy herself with something, unsettling things that she might settle them again. It was horrible, she told herself, that she should be so afraid of Dick’s presence. Why did he have that air of half-apology, of intrusion?
He did not help her when he came back, but stood, looking curiously about the room.
“Same place,” said Cecily, trying pathetically to be light.
“Did you mind my coming?”