Peter, to whom this name was, apparently, the last straw, shivered a little, sprang to his feet, and for the second time within the hour rushed blindly off into solitude.
CHAPTER VII—PETER THINKS ABOUT THE PICTURES
WHEN Hy set out for dinner, a little later, he found Peter sitting on a bench in the Square.
“Go in and get your overcoat,” said Hy. “Unless you're out for pneumonia.”
“Hy,” said Peter, his color vivid, his eyes wild, “we can't let those brutes play with Sue; like that. We've got to save her.”
Hy squinted down at his bamboo stick. “Very good, my son. But just how?”
“If I could talk with her, Hy!... I know that game so well!”
“You could call her up—”