“You shouldn’t have come,” said Glen very low.
“I had to come. You wouldn’t come to me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Miss Ada, peeping down on them from the upper hall, thought how amazingly, appealingly young he looked ... indeed, they both did ... like a pair of anxious, unhappy, desperate children.
“Do you—feel stronger?” Glen managed.
“My head aches most of the time,” he admitted plaintively.
“I’m sorry.”
“Then will you sit down in that chair and let me sit on the Wishing Carpet and put my head in your lap? I have the feeling that it would help a lot.”
She shook her head, scarlet cheeked.