“Then that's settled. And for goodness' sake, Peter, stop proposing to me every time things go wrong.” Her voice changed, grew grave and older, much older than Peter's. “We must not marry, either of us, Peter. Anna is right. There might be an excuse if we were very much in love: but we are not. And loneliness is not a reason.”
“I am very lonely,” said Peter wistfully.
CHAPTER XIII
Peter took the polished horns to the hospital the next morning and approached Jimmy with his hands behind him and an atmosphere of mystery that enshrouded him like a cloak. Jimmy, having had a good night and having taken the morning's medicine without argument, had been allowed up in a roller chair. It struck Peter with a pang that the boy looked more frail day by day, more transparent.
“I have brought you,” said Peter gravely, “the cod-liver oil.”
“I've had it!”
“Then guess.”
“Dad's letter?”
“You've just had one. Don't be a piggy.”