"Mustn't," was all she could repeat and not weep her words.
"Won't—I—do?"
"It's—mama."
"What?"
"You see—I—she's all alone."
"You adorable, she's got a brand-new husky husband."
"No—you don't—understand."
Then, on a thunder-clap of inspiration, hitting his knee, "I have it. Mama-baby! That's it. My girlie is a cry-baby, mama-baby!" And made to slide along the divan toward her, but up flew her two small hands, like fans.
"No," she said with the little bang back in her voice which steadied him again. "I mustn't! You see, we're so close. Sometimes it's more as if I were the mother and she my little girl."
Misery made her dumb.