"I don't believe so."
"Neither do Hoagland and I. She'll certainly be wanting Hope. I will say for her she adored the child. Poor Joe!"
Poor Joe, my poor darling Joe! Kate thought, going out into the kitchen. There was a smell of hot toast mingling with the fragrance of lilacs and newly cut grass that came in through the screen door. Hope was having her supper at the kitchen table, talking eagerly to Effa, who now and then contributed: "Uh-huh." "Sure!" "You tell 'em, kid!" That girl! Such a way to talk! But she loved the baby.
At the sight of Kate, Hope began to laugh, showing her enchanting little teeth, and Kate began to laugh, too. "Now what's so funny, Goosie?" And she kissed the top of the silky head, thinking of Jodie having his supper here, ever so long ago.
Oh how can I be so happy when my Joe is unhappy? But I don't believe he minds so much, after all, she thought, not wanting to admit that he was suffering, because then she would have to suffer, too. He's thinner—but then he's been so ill. And he's cheerful; he eats and makes jokes. But she was pierced by his shining eyes, that shone clear, out of torture. Once she cried: "Oh, if all this had never happened—if you had never met her!" But he answered: "No, you don't understand."
He knew utter loss, deeper than if Evelyn had died, for then she would not have left him of her own will.
