"I knew it," said Lord Evelyn. "And you never answered the letter I wrote
you."

"No," said Peter slowly. "I answered no letters at all, I think. I
don't remember exactly what I did, through that summer. I suppose I
lived--because here I am. And I suppose I kept Thomas alive--because
he's here too. But for the rest--I don't know. I hated everyone and
everything. I believe Rodney used to come and see me sometimes; but I
didn't care.... Oh, what's the good of talking about it? It's over now."

Lord Evelyn was shading his face with a shaking hand.

"Poor boy," he muttered to himself. "Poor boy. Poor boy."

Peter, recovering his normal self, said, "You've been awfully good to
me, Lord Evelyn. I've behaved very badly to you, I believe. Thanks most
awfully for everything. But don't pity me now, because I've all I want."

"Happy, are you?" Lord Evelyn looked up at him again, searchingly.

"Quite happy." Peter's smile was reassuring.

"The dooce you are!" Lord Evelyn murmured. "Well, I believe you.... Look
here, young Peter, I've a proposal to make. In the first place, is it
over, that silly business of yours and Lucy's? Can you meet without
upsetting each other?"

Peter considered for a moment.

"Yes; I think we can. I suppose I shall always care--I always have--but