The Dead Father plodding along, at the end of his cable. His long golden robes. His long gray hair to the shoulder. His broad and noble brow.
Awfully calm, said Julie.
Placid as a mailman, Thomas agreed, he is trying to be good.
Harder for him than for thee or me, hes not used to it.
I was never good, until I attained my majority, Thomas said. And even then --
I never bothered my pretty head about it, Julie said. Sometimes I did the right thing and sometimes I did the wrong thing. In difficult cases, I shut my eyes and leaped. A great deal of leaping.
A in those instahat have feelings attached --
I go against them, she said. My feelings. Method of the utmost trustworthiness, learned from the Carmelites.
I follow my feelings, Thomas said, when I find them.
Hes been very quiet.
Not a peep out of him these many miles.
Has he perhaps twigged?
Look on the bright side, Thomas said, and decide that he has not. Its essential.
A grimace from Julie.
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