"I didn't know the time. I've been asleep."
Lettice rose slowly, feeling still battered and weak, but happy. Pain of body and pain of mind alike were stilled by that strangely deep slumber. She was able to smile on the child, as he stared at her with wondering eyes.
"What makes you—so?" he demanded.
"Makes me how? I don't understand?"
"Mamsie said you was ugly. But I think you're pretty."
Lettice stooped to kiss the boy. "Keith, will you love me?" she asked softly.
"Will you play with me after tea? Father said I was to be kind to you. Will you be my horse and let me beat you?"
"Yes, if you won't beat very hard."
"Oh, 'course not—you're a girl, you know. But I'll love you, if you'll be my horse."
He slid down the balusters, looking up with eyes of approval: and Lettice came after. A cup of tea was welcome, albeit not too warm.