"It depends. Sometimes to a hundred—sometimes just a minute.
"But if one is careful, Christine—I mean, really careful?"
"It doesn't always help, Robert. And even if it did, the people who need to live most have to take risks——" She broke off, following her thought further till it was far beyond his reach. "In fifteen years you will be grown up. You will be able to take care of yourself. What will you be then?"
"A doctor," he said firmly; "and I'll look after you, Christine, and you'll live for ever and ever."
"A doctor—a doctor!" She seemed startled, almost frightened. "Yes, of course. Your father would want it. He was always proud of his profession, though he made fun. But it will mean more—waiting a little longer."
She brooded, her hand covering her eyes, and he crept nearer to her, pressing himself against her arm, trying to draw her back.
"Christine, who—who are you?"
"I don't know, Robert, I don't know——"
"I mean—why do you look after me? You're not my mother."
"Why, I love you."