''How would you feel,'' she said quietly, ''if you had fed her that pin yourself?''
It seemed an odd sort of question; but, of course, I was used by now to her saying odd sorts of things. I told her I should feel very ashamed and sad.
''Would you?'' she said. ''You see, I have an interest in knowing. For it was my birth that killed my mother. I am as to blame for her death as if I had stabbed her with my own hand!''
She looked strangely at her fingers, that had red earth at the tips. I said,
''What nonsense. Who has made you think that? They ought to be sorry.''
''No-one made me think it,'' she answered. ''I thought it myself.''
''Then that''s worse, because you''re clever and ought to know better. As if a girl could stop herself from being born!''
''I wish I had been stopped!'' she said. She almost cried it. One of the dark birds started up from between the stones, its wings beating the air—it sounded like a carpet being snapped out of a window. We both turned our heads to see it fly; and when I looked at her again, her eyes had tears in them.
I thought, ''What do you have to cry for? You''re in love, you''re in love.'' I tried to remind her.
''Mr Rivers,'' I began. But she heard the name and shivered.◇思◇兔◇網◇文◇檔◇共◇享◇與◇在◇線◇閱◇讀◇