“But I should mind always,” said Eddy, lowering his voice.
“You! but you would not like me to ask you if you were feverish.”
“I should tell you I was always feverish—with rage, when I saw you wasting your attention listening to fellows like that nephew. It is that that has made my head ache,” cried Eddy. “I thirst for his blood.”
“He has never done you any harm,” said Marion demurely.
“Thank heaven no one is coming to-night. I shall have you all to myself to-night. There will be no nephews about. I shall make Archie take me to where you used to live.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t like that at all,” said Marion. “It’s not a place to see. We were put there when we were little children, when it didn’t matter where we lived. Don’t go to any such place. There’s nothing to see.”
“There would always be some trace of you,” said Eddy, making great use of his eyes. And then they both burst into a laugh.
“You’re so silly that one doesn’t know how to speak to you,” said Marion, “but for all that don’t go there.”
Rosamond walked along with her long tread in stately seriousness after them. She said, “You are very kind to take Eddy in hand. He wants so much to be steadied, and get a little solidity. I would much rather have him with you than with more——” She paused a moment, and looked her companion over with her steady gaze.
“How? You mean better company,” he said.