But not all at once.
When she thought of Roddy it was easy to say quietly to herself, "I
shall have to give it up." When she thought of Mr. Sutcliffe and the
Paris-Lyons-Mediterranée train and the shining, gold-white, unknown
towns, it seemed to her that it was impossible to give up going to Agaye.
You simply could not do it.
She shut her eyes. She could feel Mr. Sutcliffe beside her in the train
and the carriage rocking. Dijon, Avignon, Cannes. She could hear his
voice telling her the names. She would stand beside him at the window,
and look out. And Mrs. Sutcliffe would sit in her corner, and smile at
them kindly, glad because they were so happy.
"Roddy doesn't say he _is_ ill," her mother said. "I wonder what he's
coming home for."