Edgar Degas Four Dancers painting

Edgar Degas Four Dancers paintingEdgar Degas dance class paintingEdgar Degas Ballet Rehearsal painting
You know how I feel about this.”
“I do, Papa, and thank you. There’s no need to say it.”
“Couldn’t if I tried. Ever. And for Jay as much as you, and your mother too. You understand.”
“I do understand, Papa. Good-bye.”
“It’s only Papa,” she said, and sat down, heavily.
“Thought Andrew had phoned.”
“Yes ...” She drank tea. “He scared me half out of my wits.”
“He had no phoning. He was a perfect fool to phone.”
“I don’t blame him. I think it’s even worse for them, sitting down there, than for us here.”
“I’ve no doubt it is hard.”
“Papa feels things a lot more than he shows.”
“I know. I’m glad you realize it.”
“I realize how very much he really does think of Jay.”
“Great—heavens, I should hope you do!”
“Well, for a long time there was no reason to be sure,” Mary retorted with spirit. “Or Mama either.” She waited a moment. “You and her, Aunt Hannah,” she said. “You know that. You tried not to show it, but I’ knew and you knew I did. It’s all right, it has been for a long time, but you do know that.”
Hannah continued to meet her eyes. “Yes, it’s true. Mary.