"Patrick?" Nancy sounded at a loss. "Oh, yes, of course. Poor Pat."
Bee looked at her curiously. "You had almost forgotten, hadn't you?"
"Well, it is a long time ago, Bee. And-well, I suppose one's mind tidies away the things it can't hear to remember. Bill and Nora-that was frightful, but it was something that happened to people. I mean, it was part of the ordinary risks of life. But Pat-that was different." She sat silent for a moment. "I have pushed it so far down in my mind that I can't even remember what he looked like any more. Was he as like Simon as Ruth is like Jane?"
"Oh, no. They weren't identical twins. Not much more alike than some brothers are. Though oddly enough they were much more in each other's pockets than Ruth and Jane are."
"Simon seems to have got over it. Do you think he remembers it often?"
"He must have remembered it very often lately."
"Yes. But it is a long way between thirteen and twenty-one. I expect even a twin grows shadowy at that distance."
This gave Bee pause. How shadowy was he to her: the kind solemn little boy who should have been coming into his inheritance next month? She tried to call up his face in front of her but there was only a blur. He had been small and immature for his age, but otherwise he was just an Ashby. Less an individual than a family resemblance. All she really remembered, now she thought about it, was that he was solemn and kind.
Kindness was not a common trait in small boys.
Simon had a careless generosity when it did not cost him inconvenience; but Patrick had had that inner kindness that not only gives but gives up.