Explore "Mary Olivier: a Life" by May Sinclair on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
You knew that Catty loved you. There was never the smallest uncertainty about it. Her big black eyes shone when she saw you coming. You kissed her smooth cool cheeks, and she hugged you tight and kissed you back again at once; her big lips made a noise like a popgun. When she tucked you up at night she said, "I love you so much I could eat you."
And she would play any game you liked. You had only to say, "Let's play the going-away game," and she was off. You began: "I went away to the big hot river where the rhinoceroses and hippopotamuses are"; or: "I went away to the desert where the sand is, to catch zebras. I rode on a dromedary, flump-flumping through the sand," and Catty would follow it up with: "I went away with the Good Templars. We went in a rowboat on a lake, and we landed on an island where there was daffodillies growing. We had milk and cake; and it blew such a cool breeze."