WAR
"Think about it, Jon," says I. "It's time. Good night."
Well—you know what a difference there is in the morning. For myself, I wondered whether all of it had happened. I had to begin my breakfast alone. But when Jon and Evelyn came I was sure that everything had taken place. Evelyn was sorry and weepy, and shy of Jon at first. But he went over to her just as of old, when she came down, and kissed her good morning, on her forehead, and then she laid her head against him and cried. As for Jon—he looked like he'd had a spell of sickness.
"I can't help it," she sobs, "It's in here, boiling up all the time. I try to beat it—I do, indeed, but all of a sudden it comes out without me saying yes or no. I can't—I can't! If you love me, please try and bear with that. Forgive me, Jon, forgive me, daddy! Always forgive me! You must. It's an infirmity, illness. Dearest Jon and dearest daddy in the world! And put your arms about me—both of you—
54
