understand?"

"What is he doing?" Piers inquired.

"Nothing worth speaking of, I fear. Alec has no stability--so
unlike you and me in that. You and I inherit the brave old man's
love of work; Alec was born an idler. If I thought you might
influence him for good--but no, it is too risky. One doesn't like
to speak so of a brother, Piers, but I feel it my duty to warn you
against poor Alec. _Basta_!"

That night Piers did not close his eyes. The evening's excitement
and the unusual warmth of the weather enhanced the feverishness due
to his passionate thoughts. Before daybreak he rose and tried to
read, but no book would hold his attention. Again he flung himself
on to the bed, and lay till sunrise vainly groaning for sleep.

With the new day came a light rain, which threatened to continue.
Dullness ruled at breakfast. The cousins spoke fitfully of what they
might do if the rain ceased.

"A good time for work," said Irene to Piers. "But perhaps it's all
the same to you, rain or shine?

"Much the same," Piers answered mechanically.

He passed a strange morning. Though to begin with he had seated
himself resolutely, the attempt to study was ridiculous; the sight
of his books and papers moved him to loathing. He watched the sky,
hoping to see it broken. He stood by his door, listening, listening