'The little girl who cries so?' inquired Neville.
'Oh, she's rather left off crying. She's very sensible in some ways,' said Kathleen.
'That's sensible,' said Neville. 'Still I don't know that I don't like her for having cried a good deal. I like people to mind things.'
He spoke quite naturally, but Kathleen was rather porcupinish on this subject. She stood quite still, and faced round upon her brother. Fortunately the street was not at all a crowded one.
'Now, Neville,' she said, 'I'm not going to have you go on again like that about my not caring. I know it's that you mean, and I just won't have it. I care a great deal more than if I sat down and cried about it.'
Neville stared at her.
'Kathie,' he said, 'I wasn't thinking about you when I said that. I wasn't indeed. I know you do care when you really think about things. And if you didn't, it wouldn't in a way be your fault. You've been so alone as it were; nobody except me, and we've not been much together after all, to talk about home things to. But don't be vexed with me, Kathie.'
Kathleen's face had softened while Neville spoke. She turned and walked on quietly beside him.
'Yes,' she said, 'it's true what you say. I've felt it still more since Philippa's been there. She's been so much with her mother, and she is so fond of her. It must be dreadfully nice to have a mother you know so well that you can love her like that. Neville,' she went on, 'it does seem hard that I should just be getting to feel more like you about it, when there's no chance of them coming home, and our being with them.'