CHAPTER 16What had Peter said? “I’ll come loping over with all possible speed—wherever I am—”
Well, he hadn’t come. Fredericka had tried to read, but it made her head ache. She had looked at her watch at least a hundred times and she had called Miss Sanders almost as many. But there was no sign of Peter.
As the afternoon wore on, the room grew heavy with the summer heat and Fredericka’s arm and foot in their plaster cases throbbed and itched maddeningly. She turned over her pillows once more and lay back against them. The room was so white and clean and bare and smelt so persistently of disinfectant. There wasn’t even anything to look at except a small and very lazy fly making its unhurried way across the ceiling. She closed her eyes and groaned.
The door opened and she sat up eagerly.
