“And do you know where it will lead?” he demanded,
“Where?” I asked.
“Straight to me,” he said as he studied me with eyes that were so quiet and kind I could feel a flutter of my heart-wings.
But still again I shook my head.
“That would be bringing you nothing but a withered up old has-been,” I said with a mock-wail of misery.
And Peter actually laughed at that.
“It’ll be a good ten years before you’ve even grown up,” he retorted. “And another twenty years before you’ve really settled down!” 376
“You’re saying I’ll never have sense,” I objected. “And I know you’re right.”
“That’s what I love about you,” averred Peter.
“What you love about me?” I demanded.