heard for long. He didn't quite understand Peter. When last he saw him,
he had been very far through, alarmingly near the bottom. Was this
recovery natural grace, or had something happened? It seemed to Rodney
rather admirable, and he looked appreciatively at Peter's cheerful face
and happy eyes.

"Good," he said. "Good--splendid!"

And then Peter, meeting his pleased look and understanding it, winced
back from it, and coloured, and bent over his brown paper and string. He
valued Rodney's appreciation, a thing not easily won. He felt that in
this moment he had won it, as he had never won it before. For he knew
that Rodney liked pluck, and was thinking him plucky.

Against his will he muttered, half beneath his breath, "Oh, it isn't
really what _you_ call good. It is good, you know: _I_ think it's good;
but you won't. You'll call it abominable."

"Oh," said Rodney.

Peter went on, with a new violence, "I know all you'll say about it, so
I'm not going to give you the opportunity of saying it till I'm gone. You
needn't think I'm going to tell you now and let you tell me I'm wrong.
I'm not wrong; and if I am I don't care. Please don't stay any more; I'd
rather you weren't here to-night. I don't want to tell you anything; only
I had just got to say that, because you were thinking.... Oh, do go now."

Rodney sat quite still and looked at him, into him, through him, beyond
him. Then he said, "You needn't tell me anything. I know. Lucy and you
are going together."