‘What more could there be? Only everything was different for
me after he came and went. You see, we had made a promise, both
to go on to the end. It seemed to me, at first, that he had broken
his promise; but he hadn’t really, of course; I see that clearly
now. It was the end for him, for the war was really ended; but
I must go on longer. . . . We had to do different things. . . .’
She said:
‘Is that Hugo’s baby?’
And I said:
‘How I wish it were! But not all my wishing can make it . . .
and he had no child of his own!’
She said:
‘Forgive me, Helen!’