“Yes.”
“All right. Now run off to bed and I’m poppa’s damn fool. First thing you know I’ll be singing with the Salvation Army.”
She moved slowly. In the silence he heard a low noise. Suddenly he realized that she was crying. He jumped from the couch. His hands touched her in the darkness.
“Please don’t cry,” he said. “I can’t stand it—not to-night. I didn’t mean you’re a fool. I just mean—oh, damn it—I mean you’re a good kid.”
He drew her head close to him. In the darkness he could feel only that her tiny body was like that of a child.
“Now don’t cry any more. I like you.”
“It isn’t you, Tregan. It is me.”
“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with you, child. You’re sweet.”
“I am not.”
“Sure you are. You’re a regular paragon of all that’s superlative and you make my home just home sweet hom
