oth ways, you see. They can't
see your point of view, and they're afraid of the open air you're
letting in on to them. You're too soft, Harry; you've shown them that
it hurts, and they've wanted it to hurt. Give 'em a stiff back, Harry,
give 'em a stiff back. Then you'll have 'em. That's like us Trojans.
We're devilish cruel because we're devilish proud; if you're kind we
hurt, but if you do a bit of hurting on your own account we like it."

"I've made a mess of it," Harry said, "a hopeless mess of it. I've
tried everything, and it's all failed. I'd better back out of it--"
Then, after a pause, "Robin hates me----"

Sir Jeremy chuckled.

"Oh no, he doesn't. He's like the rest of us. You wanted him to give
himself away at once, and of course he wouldn't. They're trying you
and waiting to see what you'll do, and Robin's just following on.
You'll be all right, only give 'em a stiff back, the whole crowd of
'em."

Suddenly his wrinkled yellow hand shot out from under the bedclothes
and he grasped his son's. "You're a damned fine chap," he said, "and
I'm proud of you--only you're a bit of a fool--sentimental, you know.
But you'll make more of the place than I've ever done, God bless you--"
after which he lay back on his pillows again, and was soon asleep.

Harry waited for a little, and then he stole out of the room. He told
the nurse to take his place, and went downstairs.

It was four o'clock, and he was going to tea at the Bethels'. He had
been there pretty frequently during the past week--that and the Cove
were his only courts of welcome. He knew that his going there had only
aggravated his offences in the eyes of his sister, but that he could
not help. Why should they dictate his friends to him?

The little drawing-room was neat and clean. There were some flowers,
and the chairs and sofa were not littered with books and needlework and
strange fragments of feminine garments. Mrs. Bethel was gorgeous in a
green silk dress and the paint was more obtrusive than ever. Her eyes
were red as though she had been crying, and her hair as usual had
escaped bounds.

Mary was making tea and smiled up at him. "Shout at father," she said.
"He's downstairs in the study, browsing. He'll come up when he knows
you are here."

Harry went to the head of the stairs and called, and Bethel came
rushing up. Sunday made no difference to his clothes, and he wore the
grey suit and flannel collar of their first meetin