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see you when we return for the holidays."
"Yes, that's true;" he said, still holding me close
to him. "Wait until you see what I'm getting you for
Christmas. We'll have great fun, and we'll celebrate
New Year's together and--"
Suddenly the door was thrust open and Daphne
stood there, glaring in at us.
"I thought so," she said. "Get out," she told
Beau, holding up her arm and pointing.
"Daphne, I. . ."
"Don't give me any stories or any excuses. You
don't belong up here and you know it.
"And as for you," she said, spinning her gaze at
me, "this is how you mourn the death of your father?
By entertaining your boyfriend in your room? Have
you no sense of decency, no self-control? Or does that
wild Cajun blood run so hot and heavy in your veins,
you can't resist temptation, even with your father
lying in his coffin right below you?"
"We weren't doing anything!" I cried. "We--" "Please, spare me," she said, holding up her
hand and closing her eyes. "Beau, get out. I used to
think a great deal more of you, but obviously you're
just like any other young man.. . . You can't pass up
the promise of a good time, no matter what the
circumstances."
"That's not so. We were just talking, making
plans."
She smiled icily. "I wouldn't make any plans
that included my daughter," she said. "You know how
your parents feel about your being with her anyway,
