She had a horror he would die at night. And sometimes when the light began to fade. She could not keep from noticing how white. The birches looked? and then she would be afraid, Even with a lamp, to go about the house. And lock the windows; and as night wore on. Toward morning, if a dog howled, or a mouse. Squeaked in the floor, long after it was gone. Her flesh would sit awry on her. By day. She would forget somewhat, and it would seem. A silly thing to go with just this dream. And get a neighbor to come at night and stay. But it would strike her sometimes, making tea:_She had kept that kettle boiling all night long, for company._
Edna St. Vincent MillayAbout author
- Author's profession: Author
- Nationality: american
- Born: February 22, 1892
- Died: October 19, 1950