"I suppose it'll have to."
Mamma held her face up, like a child, to be kissed.
VIII.
The Sutcliffes' house hid in the thick trees at the foot of Greffington Edge. You couldn't see it. You could pretend it wasn't there. You could pretend that Mr. Sutcliffe and Mrs. Sutcliffe were not there. You could pretend that nothing had happened.
There were other houses.
IX.
The long house at the top of the Green was gay with rows of pink and white sun-blinds stuck out like attic roofs. The poplars in the garden played their play of falling rain.
You waited in the porch, impatient for the opening of the door.
"Mamma—what will it be like?"
Mamma smiled a naughty, pretty smile. She knew what it would be like.