ed. He had indeed felt
something of the superiority which they suspected in him. If that was
all they could do---- Now, suddenly, the blood rushed to the roots of
his fair hair.

"Shut up. You leave Christine alone."

The big boy was too delighted to be angry.

"Hoity-toity. She must be a high-stepper. No trespassers allowed--eh,
what? young cockalorum. Come on, what's she like? Who is she?

"He doesn't know."

"She isn't his mother."

"He says she isn't."

"P'r'aps he doesn't know that either. P'r'aps that's what she
says----"

The full extent of the innuendo, like the majority of the audience, he
did not understand, but he saw the wink which passed between the two
elder boys. Ever since that day when he had gathered flowers for his
mother in Kensal Green Cemetery he had known of dark things, just
beyond his understanding. He had wandered in the midst of them too
long not to be aware of them on the instant. And it was against
Christine--who had suffered from them so terribly--they dared---- A
great sigh tore itself free from him. He put his head down. He flew
at the spotty youth like a stone from a catapult, and they went down
together in a cloud of dust.

After that, as in most of his uneven, desperate encounters, he hardly
knew what happened. He felt nothing. In reality it was an absurd
spectacle. The spotty youth, bounding up from his momentary
discomfiture, caught Robert by the collar and smacked him shamefully,
severely, as the outrage merited. And when justice had been satisfied,
he released the culprit, and Robert, without pause, returned, fighting
with fists and feet and teeth, as he had learnt to do from dire
necessity. It was unprecedented. The spotty youth gasped. His
companions offered intervention.

"I'll hold the beggar."

But honour was at stake. The small fry, startled out of caution, were
tittering in hysterical excitement.

"Th-thanks--you keep out of it--I'll manage him."'

The second beating was more drastic. The third was ineffectual. The
spotty youth, besides being exhausted, was demoralized with sheer
bewilderment. He was not clever, and when events ran out of their ruts
he lost his head. He had made the same discovery that the Terrace boys
had made long since, namely that short of killing Robert Stonehouse
there was no way of beating him, and he drew back, panting,
dishevelled, his manly collar limp and his eyes wild.

"There--that'll teach you----"