s; and he repeated that for his part he would never allow it.
It would be on his conscience to interfere. To which Peter returned
disingenuously that they might all do as they liked--it didn't matter a
button to _him_. And with an effort to carry off that comedy he changed
the subject.

XXXVIII

He wouldn't for a moment have admitted that he was jealous of his old
comrade, but would almost have liked to be accused of it: for this would
have given him a chance he rather lacked and missed, the right occasion
to declare with plausibility that motives he couldn't avow had no
application to his case. How could a man be jealous when he was not a
suitor? how could he pretend to guard a property which was neither his
own nor destined to become his own? There could be no question of loss
when one had nothing at stake, and no question of envy when the
responsibility of possession was exactly what one prayed to be delivered
from. The measure of one's susceptibility was one's pretensions, and
Peter was not only ready to declare over and over again that, thank God,
he had none: his spiritual detachment was still more complete--he
literally suffered from the fact that nobody appeared to care to hear
him say it. He connected an idea of virtue and honour with his attitude,
since surely it was a high case of conduct to have quenched a personal
passion for the good of the public service. He had gone over the whole
question at odd, irrepressible hours; he had returned, spiritually
speaking, the buffet administered to him all at once, that day in
Rosedale Road, by the spectacle of the _cranerie_ with which Nick could
let worldly glories slide. Resolution for resolution he preferred after
all another sort, and his own _cranerie_ would be shown in the way he
should stick to his profession and stand up for British interests. If
Nick had leaped over a wall he would leap over a river. The course of
his river was already traced and his loins were already girded. Thus he
was justified in holding that the measure of a man's susceptibility was
a man's attitude: that was the only thing he was bound to give an
account of.

He was perpetually giving an account of it to his own soul in default of
other listeners. He was quite angry at having tasted a sweetness in
Miriam's assurance at the carriage--door, bestowed indeed with very
little solemnity, that Nick didn't care for her. Wherein did it concern
him that Nick cared for her or that Nick