is wrong that your body should escape
you."

"I don't follow," he retorted, punching.

"It isn't right, even for a little time, to forget that you exist."

"I suppose you've never been tempted to go to sleep?"

Just then the train passed through a coppice in which the grey
undergrowth looked no more alive than firewood. Yet every twig in it
was waiting for the spring. Rickie knew that the analogy was false, but
argument confused him, and he gave up this line of attack also.

"Do be more careful over life. If your body escapes you in one thing,
why not in more? A man will have other temptations."

"You mean women," said Stephen quietly, pausing for a moment in this
game. "But that's absolutely different. That would be harming some one
else."

"Is that the only thing that keeps you straight?"

"What else should?" And he looked not into Rickie, but past him, with
the wondering eyes of a child. Rickie nodded, and referred himself to
the window.

He observed that the country was smoother and more plastic. The woods
had gone, and under a pale-blue sky long contours of earth were flowing,
and merging, rising a little to bear some coronal of beeches, parting a
little to disclose some green valley, where cottages stood under elms
or beside translucent waters. It was Wiltshire at last. The train had
entered the chalk. At last it slackened at a wayside platform. Without
speaking he opened the door.

"What's that for?"

"To go back."

Stephen had forgotten the threat. He said that this was not playing the
game.

"Surely!"

"I can't have you going back."

"Promise to behave decently then."

He was seized and pulled away from the door.

"We change at Salisbury," he remarked. "There is an hour to wait. You
will find me troublesome."

"It isn't fair," exploded Stephen. "It's a lowdown trick. How can I let
you go back?"

"Promise, then."

"Oh, yes, yes, yes. Y.M.C.A. But for this occasion only."

"No, no. For the rest of your holiday."

"Yes, yes. Very well. I promise."

"For the rest of your life?"

Somehow it pleased him that Stephen should bang him crossly with his
elbow and say, "No. Get out. You've gone too far." So had the train.
The porter at the end of the wayside platform slammed the door, and they
proceeded toward Salisbury through the slowly modulating downs. Rickie
pretended to read. Over the book he watched his brother's face, and
wondered how bad temper could be consistent with a mind so r