"You mustn't blame him," urged Joan. "He never asks me to come. I go always of my own accord and oftener now since Frank scolded. He's lonely without you and Donald and he hates the nurse—"
"He hates 'em all," said Kenny.
"No matter how nervous he is, I can read him to sleep."
"Ah, colleen!" There was a flash of reverence in Kenny's eyes. It mutely thanked her.
"I can't forget what he did for Don. Nor can I forget that Don's impulse—"
"Don remembers too."
Joan sighed.
"He worries me, Kenny—Don, I mean. Sometimes I think he sees in my help the one atonement he can make: he fumes and reproaches so when Brian is nervous or lonely. He even dreams of the boulder."
"And the year of study, mavourneen?"
Joan's face clouded.