Felicia shuddered. "He slapped me and he knocked Charley over with his fist and in the night I dream about it. I am going to live with you. You won't get mad again like you did with Gustav, will you, Roger?"
Roger bowed his forehead on the soft bronze brown head that rested so confidently on his breast.
"You do love poor old Roger, don't you, sweetheart?" he asked, brokenly.
As if she sensed some secret pain, Felicia turned and put her arms about him and kissed him softly on the lips. "I love you as much as I do Charley. Don't send me back to Dicky, dearest Roger."
"I won't." Roger's lips tightened grimly.
Charley came out to lunch that noon, looking much stronger.
"I'm so grateful to you, Roger and Elsa," she said, "and after I've helped with the dishes, if you'll loan me Peter, we'll go home."
Roger dropped his knife and fork, then looked at Felicia. "Felicia, you know Roger's trunk? Well, if you'll run to the living tent and open the trunk and take all the things out of it, at the very bottom you'll find some Christmas cake Elsa made last year. Then put all the things back carefully and bring the cake here."
Felicia gave an ecstatic "Oh, Roger!" and disappeared. Roger turned to Charley.
"I'm going to say one more thing. Do you realize fully that in living with Dick you jeopardize both yours and Felicia's lives?"