y
little Rhoda what sort of a creature she's been making a golden calf
of.... Well, go and wake Vyvian, then, darling, and then come and tell me
what he said to it. Peter, you're dropping to sleep as you stand."

Peter went to bed. There didn't seem to be anything to stay up for, and
bed is a comforting friend on these occasions. Hilary had a perverse
tendency to sit up all night when the worst had happened and he had a
frightful head; Peter's way with life was more amenable; he always took
what comfort was offered him. Bed is a good place; it folds protecting,
consoling arms about you, and gives at best oblivion, at worst a blessed
immunity from action.

In the morning, about eleven o'clock, Peter went to the Ca' delle Gemme.
That had to be done, so it was no use delaying. He asked for Lord Evelyn
Urquhart, and supposed that the servant who showed him in was astonished
at his impudence. However, he was permitted to wait in the reception-room
while the servant went to acquaint Lord Evelyn with his presence. He
waited some time, standing in the middle of the big room, looking at some
splinters of glass and china which had been left on the marble floor,
forming on his tongue what he was going to say. He could form nothing
that was easy to say; honestly he didn't know whether, when the door
should open and that tall, elegant, fastidious figure should walk in, he
would find himself able to say anything at all. He feared he might only
grow hot, and stammer, and slink out. But he pulled himself together; he
must do his best; it was quite necessary. He would try to say, "Lord
Evelyn, I know it is abominably impertinent of me to come into your house
like this. Will you forgive me this once? I have come to ask you, is
there any consideration whatever, any sort of reparation my brother and
I can make, which will be of any use as amends for what we did? If so, of
course we should be grateful for the chance...."

That was what he would try to say. And what he would mean was: "Will you
let Hilary off? Will you let him just go away into obscurity, without
further disgrace? Isn't he disgraced enough already? Because you are
kind, and because you have been fond of me, and because I ask you, will
you do this much?"

And what the answer would be, Peter had not the faintest idea. To him
personally the answer was indifferent. From his point of view, the worst
had already happened, and no further disgrace could affect him much. But
Hila