“Whatever’s the matter?” I said. “Where’s Lettie?”
“She’s gone home,” he answered, and the sound of his own voice, and the meaning of his own words made him heave.
“Why?” I asked in alarm.
He looked at me as if to say “What are you talking about? I cannot listen!”
“Why?” I insisted.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“They are waiting tea for you,” I said.
He heard me, but took no notice.
“Come on,” I repeated, “there’s Meg and everybody waiting tea for you.”
“I don’t want any,” he said.