It was tactless of me. But I wanted the tea. I
forgot. And I wanted to stay, too. I haven't learnt to do without
things that I want."
"You think I don't want them?"
She closed the cupboard door abruptly. The kitchen was so small that
when she turned they had to stand close to one another to avoid falling
back into the sink or burning themselves against the gas jet. He saw
that the fine colour had gone out of her face. She looked unfamiliarly
tired.
"I think you want them terribly. I suppose I'm not heroic. I don't
like your saying 'No' always--always."
"I shall get what I really want in the end."
She sighed, reflected, and then laughed rather ruefully.
"Oh, well, get the cups now, at any rate."
"There are only three, Francey."
"You and I will have to share, then."
So she made him happy--just as she had done when they had been
children--with a sudden comradely gesture.
But in the next room Mr. Ricardo had begun to talk again. They had to
hear him. He was not crying any more. His voice sounded hard and
embittered.
"He's changed. He doesn't care. He pretended to listen. He was
looking at that girl. She's a strange girl. I don't trust her. She
believes in myths. Oh, yes, I know. She did not say so, but I can
smell out an enemy. She will try to wreck everything. So it is in
life. We give everything--sacrifice everything--to pass on our
knowledge, our experience, and in the end they break away from us--they
go their own road.
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