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Devil by the Sea — Nina Bawden
"HE'S THE DEVIL..."
Peregrine insisted gently. "I saw...."
He caught his breath and began to cry.
"I saw his cloven hoof."
Hilary felt quite faint and sick. Peregrine was always truthful. She remembered the nanny who had said long ago, when they were in their bath, to an aunt or some other shadowy forgotten figure, "That child's a saint, too good to live. He'd never tell a lie, not to save his soul."
If Peregrine said that he had seen the Devil, it was true. He knew the Devil when he saw him because he was a saint too good to live. With a bursting heart, Hilary cried, "Let's go back..." She began to run weeping into the wind.
Peregrine insisted gently. "I saw...."
He caught his breath and began to cry.
"I saw his cloven hoof."
Hilary felt quite faint and sick. Peregrine was always truthful. She remembered the nanny who had said long ago, when they were in their bath, to an aunt or some other shadowy forgotten figure, "That child's a saint, too good to live. He'd never tell a lie, not to save his soul."
If Peregrine said that he had seen the Devil, it was true. He knew the Devil when he saw him because he was a saint too good to live. With a bursting heart, Hilary cried, "Let's go back..." She began to run weeping into the wind.
