“What happened to Lee?” Hal demanded after a moment.
Dorothea was confused. She remembered that sick people needed to be humored but she had also heard that they should not be allowed to talk.
“Hadn’t I better call April?” she asked gently, half rising from her chair.
“By no means,” Hal answered positively. “I don’t want her, above all people, to know of this. Tell me, what happened to Lee? Was he captured, after all?”
“You forget,” Dorothea answered patiently, “that we haven’t heard of him since his mother died, long ago.”
Hal considered this for a moment, turning his bandaged head restlessly from side to side.
“But you know Lee brought me home,” he remarked a moment later. “I’d have died if it hadn’t been for him.”
This convinced Dorothea that Hal by no means knew what he was talking about.
“It’s all right, Hal,” she said soothingly. “Don’t bother about it.” She meant to calm him, feeling that this babbling about Lee Hendon would be most distressing to April and not wishing to summon her if she could avoid it.
“But he brought me home,” Hal persisted. “I don’t want any of the family to hear about it. April least of all. She’s down on Lee, you know, and this would make it all the worse. Can’t you tell me what has happened to him?”