Part 34 (1/2)
”Well--”
She thought: ”Why can't he leave it alone? They _had_ all his things, his poor things.”
But Sutton was still thoughtful. ”I wonder why he gave it you.”
”I think he was sorry.”
”_Was_ he!”
”Sorry for me, I mean.”
Sutton said nothing. He was absorbed in contemplating the photograph.
They had been taken standing by the hurdle of the sheepfold, she with the young lamb in her arms and John looking down at her.
”That was taken at Barrow Hill Farm,” she said, ”where we were together.
He looked just like that.... Oh, Billy, do you think the past's really past?... Isn't there some way he could go on being what he _was_?”
”I don't know, Sharlie, I don't know.”
”Why couldn't he have stayed there! Then he'd always have been like that.
We should never have known.”
”You're not going to be unhappy about him?”
”No. I think I'm glad. It's a sort of relief. I shan't ever have that awful feeling of wondering what he'll do next.... Billy--you were with him, weren't you?”
”Yes.”
”Was he all right?”
”Would it make you happier to think that he was or to know that he wasn't?”
”Oh--just to _know_.”
”Well, I'm afraid he wasn't, quite.... He paid for it, Sharlie. If he hadn't turned his back he wouldn't have been shot.”
She nodded.
”What? You knew?”
”No. No. I wasn't sure.”
She was possessed of this craving to know, to know everything. Short of that she would be still bound to him; she could never get free.
”Billy--what did happen, really? Did he _leave_ the German?”