You know me too well by now to be disappointed at anything.
"I'm quite sure that, if you were here with me now, sitting in that chair
opposite me and sewing for all you were worth, that the thing that we'd be
talking about would be Peter. If, therefore, these scrawls are full of
Peter you won't mind, I know. He's immensely occupying my attention just
now and you love him as truly and deeply as I do, so that if I go on at
length about him you'll excuse it on that score. You who know me better
than any one else in the world know that, in my most secret heart, I
flatter myself on my ability as a psychologist. I remember when I told
you first how you laughed but I think since then you've come round not a
little, and although we both keep it to ourselves, it's a little secret
that you're a tiny bit proud of. I can see how brother Percival, or young
Tony Gale, or even dear Peter himself would mock, if I told them of this
ambition of mine. 'Good, dear, stupid, old Bobby' is the way they think of
me, and I know it's mother's perpetual wonder (and also, I think, a little
her comfort) that I should be so lacking in brilliance when Percival and
Millie are so full of it.
"You know Peter's attitude to me in these things--you've seen it often
enough. He's patronising--he can't help it. That isn't, he considers, my
line in the least, and, let me once begin to talk to him of stocks and
shares and he'll open all his ears.
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