"It's all right. He slipped—out on the cliff. Nothing more than a scratch or two and perhaps a sprained ankle."
He watched while she set Joey in a chair and began to pull off his stockings. He had never seen the child's foot naked. She turned suddenly, caught him looking, and pulled the stocking back over the deformity.
"Have you heard?" she asked.
"What?"
"She has a boy! Ah!" she laughed, harshly, "I thought that would hurt you. Well, you have been a silly!"
"I don't think I understand."
"You don't think you understand!" she mimicked. "And you're not fond of her, eh? Never were fond of her, eh? You silly—to let him take her, and never tell!"
"Tell?"
She faced him, hardening her gaze. "Yes, tell—" She nodded slowly; while Joey, unobserved by either, looked up with wide, round eyes.
"Men don't fight like that." The words were out before it struck him that one man had, almost certainly, fought like that. Her face, however, told him nothing. She could not know. "You have never told," he added.