But after a while the storm seemed to pass, Jamie seemed to grow suddenly calm and collected: ‘You two,’ she said gravely, ‘I want to thank you for all you’ve been to Barbara and me.’
Mary started crying.
‘Don’t cry,’ said Jamie.
The evening came. Stephen lighted the lamp, then she made up the stove while Mary laid the supper. Jamie ate a little, and she actually smiled when Stephen poured her out a weak whiskey.
‘Drink it, Jamie—it may help you to get some sleep.’
Jamie shook her head: ‘I shall sleep without it—but I want to be left alone to-night, Stephen.’
Mary protested but Jamie was firm: ‘I want to be left alone with her, please—you do understand that, Stephen, don’t you?’
Stephen hesitated, then she saw Jamie’s face; it was full of a new and calm resolution: ‘It’s my right,’ she was saying, ‘I’ve a right to be alone with the woman I love before they—take her.’
Jamie held the lamp to light them downstairs—her hand, Stephen thought, seemed amazingly steady.