you have your Peter, and nurse won't let you overdo things."
"You have your Peter." Can one imagine anything more ridiculous! My incurably frivolous sister imagined I had fallen in love, with that lout! I was unable to persuade her to the contrary. She argued, that at my worst and before, I would have no other attendant. And she pointed out that it could not possibly be Peter Kennedy's skill that attracted me. I defended him, feebly perhaps, for it was true that he had not shown any special aptitude or ability. I said he was quite as good as any of the others, and certainly less depressing.
"There is no good humbugging me, or trying to. You are in love with the man. Don't trouble to contradict it. And I am not a bit jealous. I only hope he will make you happy. Nurse told me you do not even like her to come into the room when he is here."
"Don't you know how old I am? It is really undignified, humiliating, to be talked to or of in that way..."
"Age has nothing to do with it. A woman is never too old to fall in love. And besides, what is thirty-nine?"
"In this case it is forty-two," I put in drily, my sense of humour not being entirely in abeyance.
"Well! or forty-two. Anyway you will admit