“Oh, more! Much more!” he stammered tremblingly. He knew in his heart that there was a subtle difference, and that what he felt was not what she meant when 77 she said, “I like you.” “I’m sure it is I who like you the most.”
“Oh, no, it isn’t! Why, you never even used to see me. And I––I used to gaze on you––and be so romantic! It was Richard who always saw me and played with me. He used to toss me up, and I would run away down the road to meet him. I wonder when he’s coming back! I wish he’d come. Why don’t you read your father’s letter? The man’s waiting, you know.”
“Ah, yes. And I suppose Dad’s waiting, too. I wonder why he wrote me when he can see me every day!”
“Well, read it. Don’t stand there looking at it and staring at me. Do you know how you look? You look as if it were a message from the king, saying: ‘You are remanded to the tower, and are to have your head struck off at sundown.’ That’s the way they did things in the olden days.” She turned to go.
“Stay here until I see if you are right.” He dropped on the divan and made room for her at his side.
“All right! That’s what I wanted to do, but I thought it wouldn’t be polite to be curious.”
“But you wouldn’t be polite anyway, you know, so you might as well stay. M-m-m. I’m remanded to the tower, sure enough. Father wants me to meet him in the director’s room as soon as banking hours are over. Fine old Dad! He wouldn’t think of infringing on banking hours for any private reasons unless the sky were falling, and even then he would save the bank papers first. See here––Betty––er––never mind. I’ll tell you another time.”
“Please tell me now! What is it? Something dreadful, Peter Junior?”
“I wasn’t thinking about this; it––it’s something else––”