A tremulous drawing-in of breath, a shaking under the bed-clothes. On
Anne's white cheek the black eyelashes were parted and pointed with her
tears. She had been crying a long time.

Adeline knelt down, her face against Anne's face.

"What is it darling? Tell me."

Anne shivered.

"Oh Anne, I wish you loved me. You don't, ducky, a little bit."

"I do. I do. Really and truly."

"Then give me a kiss. The proper kind."

Anne gave her the tight, deep kiss that was the proper kind.

"Now--tell me what it is." She knew by Anne's surrender that, this time,
it was not her mother.

"I don't know."

"You _do_ know. Is it Jerry? Do you want Jerry?"

At the name Anne's crying broke out again, savage, violent.

Adeline held her close and let the storm beat itself out against her
heart.