“And there's Rose. She'll wonder where I've gone.”
“I've told her. Don't you worry. What a conscientious infant you are. Just like your father. Anything else?”
“No,” said Jeremy breathlessly, and nearly murdered himself going downstairs because he shut his eyes in order to continue the dream so long as it was possible. Then in the cold night air, grasping his uncle's hand with a feverish hold, he stammered:
“Is it really true? Are we going—really?”
“Of course we're going. Come on—step out or you'll miss the Giant.”
“But—but—oh!” he drew a deep breath. “Then they don't think me a liar any more?”
“They—who?”
“Father and Mother and everyone.”
“Don't you think about them. You'd better enjoy yourself.”
“But you said you wouldn't go to the Pantomime—not for anything?”