“Harry’s off to Spezia to fetch the doctor—the man who’s going to make you well.”
“Well!”
It was uttered deliberately, with a wise disbelieving smile.
“Harry! Harry!”
Her face grew troubled as she tried to recollect a name that was familiar.
Harry’s eyes filled with tears. He went on his knees beside her, pressing her hand to his lips.
“Kay, don’t you know me—your mouth-organ boy?”
The puzzled look melted. A low laugh came to her parched lips. “My dear, dear mouth-organ boy!”
At the door he gazed back longingly. Peter caught him by the arm. It was the struggle not to be selfish—it had been going on through seven days.
“You stay. Let me go.”