I
said stiffly:
"I have learned to appreciate Doctor Geddes."
"You are far too fair-minded not to." Presently: "Sophy?"
"Uh-huh."
"We aren't ever going to be sorry we came here--together--are we,
Sophy? And we won't ever let anybody come between us. Not anybody.
Not The Author--nor his secretary--nor whatever guests come--nor Mr.
Nicholas Jelnik--nor--nor Doctor Richard Geddes." Her head pressed
closer to my knees.
"We came first, you and I," said Alicia, in a muffled whisper. "We
are more to each other than any of them can be to us. You'll
remember that, won't you?"
"I will remember, you absurd Alicia!" But I did not ask my dear girl
what her incoherent words might mean. I did not ask why the soft
cheek against my hand was wet.
As I have said before, Hynds House is but two stories high, with
deep cellars under it, and an immense attic overhead; an attic all
cut up into nooks and corners, and twists and turns, and sloping
roofs and dormer windows, and two or three shallow steps going up
here, and two or three more going down there, and passages and doors
where you'd never look for them. We had never been able fully to
explore our attic.
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