"Oh, you want to get rid of me. . . ." She got up slowly. "Well, I'll go."
"No," he answered eagerly. "If you'll lie down on this sofa I'll make it comfortable for you. Then Harry shall tell us what he's been doing."
She stood, her hands on her hips, her body swaying ever so slightly.
"Tum-te-tiddledy . . . Tum-te-tiddledy. Poor little thing----! Was it ill? Must it be fussed over and have cushions and be made to lie down? If you're ever ill," she said to Henry, "don't you let Peter nurse you. He'll fuss the life out of you. He's a regular old woman. He always was. He hasn't changed a bit. Fuss, fuss--fuss, fuss, fuss. Oh! he's very kind, Peter is, so thoughtful. Well, why shouldn't I stay? I haven't seen so many new faces in the last few days that a new one isn't amusing. When did you first meet Peter?"
She suddenly lay back on the sofa and, to Henry's surprise, without any protest allowed Peter to wrap a rug round her, arrange the cushions for her. She caught his shoulder with her hand and pressed it.
"I used to like to do that," she said, nodding to Henry. "When we were married years ago. Strong muscles he's got still. Haven't you, Peter? Oh, we'll be a model married couple yet."
She looked at Henry, more gently now and with a funny crooked smile.
"Do you know how long we've been married? Years and years and years. I'm over forty you know. You wouldn't think it, would you? . . . Say you wouldn't think it."
"That's very nice of you. Why, he's blushing! Look at him blushing, Peter! It's a long time since I've done any blushing. Are you in love with any one?"
"Yes, but she doesn't want to be married."
"That's wise of her. It's hard on Peter my coming back like this, but I'm not going to stay long. As soon as I'm better I'm going away. Then he can divorce me."
"Clare, dear, you mustn't. . . . Oh, men do like to have it their own way. So long as you love a man you can put up with it, but when you don't love him any more then it's hard to put up with. How awful for you, Peter darling, if I'm never strong enough to go away--if I'm a permanent invalid on your hands for ever---- Won't that be fun for you? Rather amusing to see how you'll hate it--and me. You hate me now, but it's nothing to the way you'll hate me after a year or two. . . . Do you know Chelsea?"