“Look at me, Pete.”
“Well,” he sighed gently, “what of it?” He looked down at her and smiled. “It’s the first good time he’s had for fifteen years. You know we don’t make him happy. I don’t grudge him his joy, Bella, do you? It can’t last long, anyway. Fairy tales can’t hurt her—Hugh believes—almost—in his own inventions. She’ll be going back—her friends will be hunting for her. I’ll let her think I’m a bean-pole of a boy if it makes him any happier to have me one. And why do you care?”
She drew in her breath. “Oh, I don’t suppose I care—so much,” she said haltingly. “But—think of the girl.”
His eyes widened a little and fell. “The girl?”
“She’s falling in love with him!”
Pete threw back his head and laughed aloud. “Oh, Bella, you know, that’s funny!”
“It’s not. It’s tragic. It’s horrible. You’ll see. Watch her face.”
“I have watched it.” He spoke dreamily. “It’s a very pretty and sweet face.”
“Pete, Hugh’s robbing you.”
“Me?”