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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,