“What is this, a third degree?” Burt asked, and only a faint, amused smile took the edge from his question.
“I’m sorry,” Penny apologized.
“It doesn’t matter what happened to me,” Burt said quietly. “I just don’t feel like talking about it—see?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t mean to seem unappreciative,” the young man resumed. “Thanks for taking me home.”
“You’re very welcome, I’m sure,” Penny responded dryly.
The car drew up in front of the home where Burt and his sister lived. A pleasant, one-story cottage rather in need of paint, it was situated high on a bluff overlooking the river.
As Burt stiffly alighted from the car, the cottage door opened, and Sara came running to meet him.
“You’re hurt!” she cried anxiously. “Oh, Burt, what happened to you?”
“Nothing,” he answered, moving away from her encircling arms.