He tried to avoid her alarmed eyes.
“Edwin Dell,” she cried, “I conjure you to answer me one question.”
“What?” His parched lips framed the word.
“Tell me, Edwin Dell, are you a . . . good boy?”
He made no answer.
“It can’t be,” cried his aunt. “Look me in the eye and I’ll know it isn’t so. Can you look me in the eye, Edwin Dell?”
He couldn’t.
She pushed him fiercely from her.
“My God,” she screamed. “Not that, not that?”
“Yes, Aunt Charity,” he groaned, “that.”