She hated the
thought that she and Hilda were alone in the empty house--
"Hilda, if you go to France, shall you see Daddy?"
"I shall try. I had a letter from him the other day. He told me not
to come. But I am going. There is work to do, and I am going."
Jean had a stunned feeling, as if there was nothing left to say, as if
Hilda were indeed a rock, and words would rebound from her hard surface.
"But after all, you didn't really care for Daddy--"
"What makes you say that?"
"You were going to marry the General."
"Well, I wanted a home. I wanted some of the things you had always
had. I'm not old, and I am tired of being a machine."
For just one moment her anger blazed, then she laughed with something
of toleration.
"Oh, you'd never understand if I talked a year. So what's the use of
wasting breath?"
She said "Good-bye" after that, and Jean watched her go, hearing the
padded steps--until the front door shut and there was silence.
After that, with almost a sense of panic, she sped through the empty
rooms, finding the papers after a frantic search, and gaining the
street with a sense of escape.
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