Maryam thought of Bitsy's hopefulness, her wholeheartedness, her manufactured 'traditions' that seemed brave now rather than silly. The sudden wrench to her heart made her wonder if it might be Bitsy she loved. Or maybe it was all of them.
She spun away from the window. She left the bedroom. She crossed the hall. By the time she reached the stairs, she was running. She ran down the stairs; she ran to the door. She burst out of the house crying, 'Stop!
'Wait!' she called. 'Don't go!
'Wait for me!' she called.
They stopped. They turned. They looked up at her and they started smiling, and they waited for her to join them.