"us" there indefinitely,
while her brother dutifully continued distributing supplies to hospitals
and refugees. ("Us," according to Mother Beckett, meant Brian and me,
Father Beckett and herself, for we now constituted the "family"!)
Telegrams had given the Paris house-letting agency _carte blanche_ for
hasty preparations at the Chateau d'Andelle, where several old servants
had been kept on as caretakers: and being a spoiled American
millionairess, the little lady was confident that a week would see the
house aired, warmed, staffed, and altogether habitable.

"You wouldn't object to having that poor little girl stay with us, would
you, dear?" Mother Beckett asked me, patting my hand when she had
revealed her ideas concerning the O'Farrells.

"Oh, no," I answered, looking straight into her inquiring eyes, and
trying not to change colour. "But you shouldn't speak as if I had any
right----"

"You have every right!" she cut me short. "Aren't you our daughter?"

"I love you and Father Beckett enough to be your daughter," I said. "But
that gives me no right----"

"It does. Your love for us, and ours for you. I don't believe we could
have lived through our sorrow if it hadn't been for you and Brian. He
saved our reason by showing us what Jim would want us to do for the good
of others. And he taught us what we couldn't seem to realize fully,
through religion, that death doesn't count. Now, since I've been ill, I
guess you've saved my life. And much as I want to see Jim, I want even
more to live for Father. He needs me--and we both need you and Brian.
You two belong to us, just as if you'd been given to us by Jim. We want
to do what's best for you both. I thought, for Brian, it would be good
perhaps to have Dierdre----"

"Perhaps," I murmured, when she paused.

"You're not sure? I wasn't at first. I mean, I wasn't sure she was good
enough. But since the night when she threw herself in front of him to
keep off the dog, I saw she cared. Maybe she didn't know it herself till
then. But she's known ever since. You've only to see the way she looks
at him. And she's growing more and more of a woman--Brian's influence,
and the influence of her love--such a great influence, dear! It might be
for his happiness, if----"

"I don't think Brian would marry Dierdre or any girl, unless his sight
came back," I said. "He's often told me he wouldn't marry."

"Was that before he went to Paris with the O'Farrells? Things have been
rather