He felt for the first time that it was a shortish name.
"I'm so sorry," said Wendy Moira Angela.
"It doesn't matter," Peter gulped.
She asked where he lived.
"Second to the right," said Peter, "and then straight on till morning." "What a funny address!" Peter had a sinking.

For the first time he felt that perhaps it was a funny address.
"No, it isn't," he said.
"I mean," Wendy said nicely, remembering that she was hostess, "is that what they put on the letters ?" He wished she had not mentioned letters.
"Don't get any letters," he said contemptuously.
"But your mother gets letters ?" "Don't have a mother," he said.

Not only had he no mother, but he had not the slightest desire to have one.

He thought them very over-rated persons.

Wendy, however, felt at once that she was in the presence of a tragedy.
"O Peter, no wonder you were crying," she said, and got out of bed and ran to him.
"I wasn't crying about mothers," he said rather indignantly.