He could not have borne anyone else about him. If he were to die, it would not be quite so horrible with her beside him. . . . But he could not help that mocking smile.
"I am trapped," Alayne thought. "Why am I here? What does it all mean? Is there some plan, some reason in it all? Or are we just mad puppets set jigging by the sinister hand of a magician? Is the hand this old woman's? Not hard to think of her as Fate. . . ."
"Shaitan! Shaitan ka batka!" screamed Boney, suddenly perceiving her as a stranger.
"Tell the bird to hold his tongue!" cried Grandmother. "I want to talk."
"Hold your tongue, Bonaparte!" growled Nicholas.
Alayne thought: "Is Eden going to die? And if he does—what? Why am I here? If I can nurse him back to health, can I ever care for him again? Ah, no, no—I could not! What are Renny's thoughts? Why was I such a fool as to think that his presence no longer swept over me like a wave of the sea. Oh, why did I come?" Her brow contracted in pain. Old Mrs. Whiteoak's rings were hurting her hand.
"Shaitan! Shaitan ka batka!" raged Boney.
"Nick!"
"Yes, Mama."
"Ernest!"
"Yes, Mama."
"Tell the bird to hush. I'm asking Alayne a question."
They composed the parrot with a bit of biscuit.
"Are you glad to be home again, child?"
"Y-yes. Oh, yes."
"And where have you been all this time?"
"In New York."
"It's a poor place from what I hear. Did you weary of it? Had Eden a good position?"
All the eyes in the room were on her. She hedged. "I went away once for a change. To visit cousins in Milwaukee."
The strong rust-coloured eyebrows shot upward. "Milwaukee! China, eh? That's a long way."
