"
"Go directly to her and tell her," said Bobby; "have it all out in the open
with her,"
"That's just it," Peter answered, "I never seem to get her alone. There's
always either her mother or Cards there. Cards sees her alone much more
than I do, but, of course, she likes his company better than mine just now.
I'm such a gloomy beggar--"
"Nonsense," said Bobby roughly. "You believe anything that any one tells
you. They tell you that you're gloomy and depressing and so you think you
are. They didn't find you gloomy at Brockett's did they? And Alice and I
have never found you depressing. Don't listen to that woman. Clare's always
been under her influence and it's for you to take her out of it--not to lie
down quietly and say she's too much for you--but there's another thing," he
added slowly and awkwardly, after a moment's pause.
"What's that?" asked Peter.
"Well--Cards," said Bobby at last. "Oh! I know you'll say I hate him. But I
don't. I don't hate him. I've always known him for what he was--in those
days at Dawson's when if you flattered him he was kind, and if you didn't
he was contemptuous. At Cambridge it was the same. There was only one
fellow there I ever saw him knock under to--a man called Dune--and he was
out and away exceptional anyhow, at games and work and everything. Now _he_
made Cards into a decent fellow for the time being, and if he'd had the
running of him he might have turned all that brilliance into something
worth having.
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