Harold blanched. "Reggie, old man, you don't know what you are saying.
You can't remember Percy. I wish you wouldn't say these things, even in
fun."

"I'm not saying it in fun. Of course, it's none of my business, but you
have paid me the compliment of confiding in me about Amelia, and I feel
justified in speaking. All I can say is that, if you cherish her memory
as you say you do, you show it in a very strange way. How you can
square your neglect of Percy with your alleged devotion to Amelia's
memory, beats me. It seems to me that you have no choice. You must
either drop the whole thing and admit that your love for her is dead,
or else you must stop this infernal treatment of her favorite brother.
You can't have it both ways."

He looked at me like a hunted stag. "But, Reggie, old man! Percy! He
asks riddles at breakfast."

"I don't care."

"Hilda can't stand him."

"It doesn't matter. You must invite him. It's not a case of what you
like or don't like. It's your duty."

He struggled with his feelings for a bit. "Very well," he said in a
crushed sort of voice.

At dinner that night he said to Hilda: "I'm going to ask Amelia's
brother down to spend a few days. It is so long since we have seen