"Mother says..." she began dreamily, and that reminded him.
"She said I was to tell you to go to sleep at once."
"Such a silly sort of thing to say to a child!" said Ferlie, palpably quoting, "Sleep is like that marrying feeling of yours: it can't be made to go or stop ... Cyprian..."
"Well!"
"You did a wriggle. You aren't goin' away."
"Not if you'll shut your eyes," he undertook feebly. "But, you know, there is really nothing to be afraid of, Ferlie, whether I am here or not."
She knew better. "And that's another thing you can't let go nor stop, neither," she told him.
Considering it, with her head growing heavier every moment against his shoulder, Cyprian came to the conclusion that she was right. The darkness deepened about them as someone shut the door between hall and stairs.
"Cyprian."
"Dear."