At that he unwisely abandons his fortress of silence, and speaks:
'You had better ask Lily; you have set her on more than once as a spy. Have your child in and ask her!'
To this cold and withering taunt her own weaker sarcasms succumb; and again abandoning all self-control, she bursts into an agony of weeping, burying her head in the sofa-cushions, and convulsed from head to foot by her sobs.
'Is it any wonder,' she moans, 'that I do not want to see the only thing I have in the world go from me? What am I saying?'—pulling herself up suddenly—'how dare I say the only thing? have not I my Franky? I shall always have my Franky!'
The grief of her tone is so poignant and so real that his heart softens to her, despite her former gibes. He lays his hand upon her shoulder.
'What is all this about?' he asks kindly. 'You know as well as I do that you will have me—such as I am—as long as you choose to keep me!'
'Then you will not stay here?' cries she precipitately, quitting her desperate posture, and springing back with startling suddenness into life and animation again; 'then you will go to-morrow?'
There is a pause. He walks to the window. Through it there comes the peaceful sound of bleating sheep; and the distant sharp bark of a little dog. Can it be Mink? He has a sharp bark. Poor little Mink! He will probably never see Mink again. And to-morrow, according to Peggy, Mink had promised to tell them all about the Dogs' Home!
He smiles transiently at the recollection of her childish jest. How many things they were to have done to-morrow! Then he walks slowly back from the window and says:
'I will go to-morrow!'