"Don't tell her foolish things about yourself--things that aren't
any longer true.  Don't worry her with old dead dreadfulness.  To
please me--don't." 

"Just tonight I won't, then." 

"Stevie, dear, please me more--don't take her with you." 

At this he laughed impertinently.  "I suppose I'm being kept in
line," she called, and, though he could not see her, she
stretched her arms towards him.  For a time he stood motionless,
under her window, musing on his happy tangible life.  Then his
breath quickened, and he wondered why he was here, and why he
should hold a warm child in his arms.  "It's time we were
starting," he whispered, and showed the sky, whose orange was
already fading into green.  "Wish everything goodnight." 

"Good-night, dear mummy," she said sleepily.  "Goodnight, dear
house.  Good-night, you pictures--long picture--stone lady.  I see
you through the window--your faces are pink."