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Updated: June 13, 2025
So he, too, had not been in bed; he, too, had been unhappy! And, burying her face in his sleeve, she murmured: "Oh, Derek! Why?" "I didn't want them all to see. I can't bear to give it away. Nedda, come down lower and let's love each other!" Softly, stumbling, clinging together, they went down to the last turn of the wide stairs.
Another cop was ripping the seams of his mattress to look inside. Somebody else was going carefully through a little pile of notes that Nedda had written, squinting at them as if he were afraid of seeing something he'd wish he hadn't. "What's happened?" asked Hoddan blankly. "What's this about?" Derec said miserably: "You killed someone, Bron. An innocent man!
At that moment her aunt's face seemed wonderful to Nedda; so quiet, yet so burningly alive. "Peace! There is no peace in this world. There is death, but no peace!" And, moving nearer to Tod, she rested her hand on his shoulder, looking, as it seemed to Nedda, at something far away, till John said: "That's hardly the point, is it? We should be awfully glad to know that there'll be no more trouble.
It was very warm; a night of whispering air, opening all hearts. And Derek said: "You'll know to-morrow, Nedda." A flutter of fear overtook her. What would she know?
And, seeing Nedda's smile, for the girl recollected perfectly having admired it during dinner at Uncle John's, and at Becket itself, she said decisively, "So that's that!" and settled her down on the sofa. But just as she was thinking, 'I have the very thing for the dear child's sunburn, Nedda said: "Granny, dear, I've been meaning to tell you Derek and I are engaged."
When, like me, you have an open wound, which something is always inflaming, you can't wonder, can you, that fever escapes into the air. Derek may have caught the infection of my fever that's all! But I shall never lose that fever, Nedda never!" "But, Aunt Kirsteen, this haunting is dreadful. I can't bear to see it." "My dear, Derek is very highly strung, and he's been ill.
Derek is simply full of it; I want to feel like that, too, and I mean to." His face grew twinkly; he put out his hand. And wondering a little whether he meant her to, Nedda timidly stretched forth her own and grasped it. "I like you," he said. "Love your cousin and don't worry." Nedda's eyes slipped into the distance. "But I'm afraid for him. If you saw him, you'd know."
There at the door was Derek. Derek, who had slept the sleep of the dead, having had none for two nights, woke thinking of Nedda hovering above him in the dark; of her face laid down beside him on the pillow. And then, suddenly, up started that thing, and stood there, haunting him! Why did it come? What did it want of him?
Without meaning to, out of sheer emotion, she pressed them somewhat hard, and, as from a concertina emerges a jerked and drawn-out chord, so from the cook came a long, quaking sound; her apron fell, her body heaved, and her drowsy, flat, soft voice, greasy from pondering over dishes, murmured: "Ah, Miss Nedda! it's you, my dear! Bless your pretty 'eart."
And nothing to be answered, but: "Time enough, Nedda!" "But, Dad, there are such heaps of things, such heaps of people, and reasons, and and life; and I know nothing. Dreams are the only times, it seems to me, that one finds out anything." "As for that, my child, I am exactly in your case. What's to be done for us?" She slid her hand through his arm again. "Don't laugh at me!" "Heaven forbid!
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