And then I was lured by her to theatres, dinners, lunches. She thought people liked to meet me, but I have rarely noticed any interest taken in a female novelist, however many editions she may run through. My strength was returning, if slowly. Ella of course had duties to those children of hers that sometimes I resented so unreasonably. I always wished her early widowhood had left her without ties. However, the call of them came in usefully now; it was not necessary for me to press it. I came first with her, I exulted in it. But since I was getting better.... I wished to be alone with that parcel. I did make a tentative effort before Ella left. “I don’t want to settle off to sleep just yet, nurse, I should like to read a little. There is a packet of letters....” “No! No! I wouldn’t hear of such a thing. Starting reading at ten o’clock. What will you be wanting to do next?” “It would not do me any harm,” I answered irritably. “I’ve told you before it does me more harm to be contradicted every time I make a suggestion.” “Well, you won’t get me to help you to commit suicide. Night is the time for sleep, and you’ve had your codein.” “The codein does not send me to sleep, it only soothes and quiets me.” “All the more reason you should not wake yourself up by any old letters.” She argued, and I.... At the end I was too tired and out of humour to insist. I made up my mind to do without a nurse as soon as possible, and in the meantime not to argue but to circumvent her. At this time, before Ella went, I was getting up every day for a few hours, lying on the couch by the window. I tested my strength and found I could walk from bed to sofa, from sofa to easy-chair without nurse’s arm, if I made the effort. “You _will_ take care of yourself?” were Ella’s last words, and I promised impatiently. “I don’t so much mind leaving you alone now, 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?”