She was
literally my world.
Frank came and sat down with us, and made himself as agreeable as
possible. He tried to enter into our play, but we were too slow for
him; he soon became restless and impatient. 'Oh bother!' he said, and
got up and left us.
I drew a sigh of relief when he was gone.
'Do you like my brother, Winifred?' I said.
'Yes.' she said.
'Why?'
'Because he is so pretty and so nimble. I believe he could run
up--' and then she stopped; but I knew what the complete sentence
would have been. She was going to say: 'I believe he could run up the
gangways without stopping to take breath.'
Here was a stab; but she did not notice the effect of her unfinished
sentence. Then a question came from me involuntarily.
'Winifred,' I said, 'do you like him as well as you like me?'
'Oh no,' she said, in a tone of wonderment that such a question
should be asked.
'But _I_ am not pretty and--'
'Oh, but you _are_!' she said eagerly, interrupting me.
'But,' I said, with a choking sensation in my voice, 'I am lame.' and
I looked at the crutches lying among the ferns beside me.
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