Rather, Nan's utter weakness called forth all the solicitude and ineffable tenderness of which Peter was capable--such tenderness--almost maternal in its selfless, protective quality, as is only found in a strong man--never in a weak one.
At last, with the May warmth and sunshine, she had begun to pick up strength, and now she was actually on the high road to recovery and demanding for the third or fourth time when they might go to Mallow.
Inwardly she was conscious of an intense craving for the sea, with its salt, invigorating breath, for the towering cliffs of the Cornish coast, and the wide expanse of downland that stretched away to landward till it met and mingled with the tender blue of the sky.
"Strong enough to stand the journey ?" she exclaimed in answer to Kitty's remark.

"I should think I am strong enough! I was outdoors for a couple of hours this morning, and I don't feel the least bit tired.

I'm only lying here"-- indicating the Chesterfield with a humorous little smile that faintly recalled the Nan of former days--"because I find it so extremely comfortable." "That may be a slight exaggeration," returned Kitty.

"Still, I think you could travel now.

And your coming down to Mallow will rather ease things." "Ease things?
What things ?" "Your meeting with Lady Gertrude, for one.