Peterkin
he would have gone away at once, and the thought of his duty dances, the miles of small talk he would have to listen to, and originate, appalled him.
This was the first time he had seen the light of life go out utterly and entirely, and it was not easy to bear, impossible to dissemble, his misery. Because he loved her, he told himself. This was not a passing fancy like the others. Di was different; had always been different. If she gave him up, he had done with girls. And it was for so little. How beastly it was of the band to play "Trésor d 'Amour." They had agreed to dance that together always.
"What is it, Georgie?"
Anne's voice sounded quite kind. He looked at her impatiently, and wondered again what she had done to make herself look so pretty. Her dress was yellow, sweet sunshiny yellow, and her hair was waved high, with gold colored pansies in it.
"Is it Peterkin?" said Anne.
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