shining
armour falls to pieces."

"Another broken bottle," Michael muttered.

He got up abruptly and, though there were tears in his eyes, she could
not win him back.

"Dear old boy, do tell me. Don't make the mistake of going back into
yourself, because I failed you for a moment."

Mrs. Ross held out her hand, but Michael walked away.

"You don't understand," he turned to say. "You couldn't understand. And
I don't want you to be able to understand. You mustn't think I'm
sulking, or being rude, and really I'd rather you didn't understand.
That boy of yours won't ever want you to understand. I don't think he'll
ever do anything that isn't perfectly comprehensible."

"Michael," said Mrs. Ross, "don't be so bitter. You'll be sorry soon."

"Soon?" asked Michael fiercely. "Soon? Why soon? What's going to happen
to make me sorry soon? Something is going to happen. I know. I feel it."

He fled through the wind-frayed orchard up the hill-side. With his back
against the tower called Grogg's Folly he looked over four counties and
vowed he would go heedless of everything that stood between him and
experience. He would deny himself nothing; he would prove to the hilt
everything.

"I must know," he wrung out of himself. "Everything that has happened
must have happened for some reason. I will believe that. I can't believe
in God, until I can believe in myself. And how can I believe in myself
yet?"

The four counties under September's munificence mocked him with their
calm.

"I know that all these people at Cobble Place are all right," he
groaned. "I know that, just as I know Virgil is a great poet. But I
never knew Virgil was great until I read Swinburne. Oh, I want to be
calm and splendid and proud of myself, but I want to understand life
while I'm alive. I want to believe in immortality, but in case I never
can be convinced of it, I want to be convinced of something. Everything
seems to be tumbling down nowadays. What's so absurd is that nobody can
understand anybody else, let alone the universe. Mrs. Ross can
understand why I like Alan, but she can't understand why I want love.
Viner can understand why I get depressed, but he can't understand why I
can't be cured immediately. Wilmot could understand why I wanted to read
his rotten books, but he can't understand why the South African War
upset me. And so on with everybody. I'm determined to understand
everybody," Michael vowed, "even if I can't have faith," he sighed