Visting Nurse. Alice Brennan
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he has to show the world that he doesn’t care.” His eyes were warm on Arleen’s face. “Something about you got through to Peter,” he told her. He looked away from her quickly, as if there were something in his face he did not want her to see.
There was a lump in Arleen’s throat. She said, past it, “Why, Mark? Why do people have to live like this? Poor Neelie Ryan up there in that stifling room, bedridden, with a weak, drunken husband; the Luiguis . . . poor Rose . . . this Peter Rossi?”
Mark Wynter said tightly, “Ah, now, there’s a question. If you find the answer, my dear Miss Anderson, please give it to me. I’m curious. A lot of people are curious about the whys and the wherefores of this particular kind of misery.”
He opened the car door and told Arleen to slide over. “I don’t have my car,” he said, “so I’ll drive yours. We’ll have a cup of coffee at Barney’s.”
Arleen knew she shouldn’t take the time, but she also knew she was going to. She said lightly, “Hot coffee on a day like this?”
He said firmly, “A hot drink is good for you on a hot day.”
Arleen laughed. “You’re the doctor,” she said.
Across the street, Rose Luigui was strutting along, with the three boys following her.
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