"
"You once told me," Bobby said, "about an old man in your place when you
were a kid, who said once, 'It isn't life that matters but the courage you
bring to it--' Well, that's what you're proving now, Peter."
"Yes, but why me? I've had a bad time all my life--always been knocked
about and cursed and kicked. Why should it go on all the time--all the
time?"
"Because They think you're worth it, I suppose," said Bobby.
III
And the result of that conversation was that, on that very night Peter made
his appeal. They had had a silent evening (Mrs. Rossiter was staying in the
house at this time), and at last they all had gone up to bed. Peter stayed
for a moment in his dressing-room, seeing his white face in the
looking-glass, hearing the beating of his heart and then with a hand that
strangely trembled, knocked on Clare's door.
Her voice sounded frightened, he thought, as she called to him to come in.
Indeed, as he entered she folded a letter that she had been reading, and
put it in a drawer in the dressing-table at which she was sitting.
It was only seldom now that he disturbed her in that room. She had turned
on the electric light over her dressing-table; the rest of the room was in
darkness. She seemed to Peter very fragile and tiny as she sat there in her
black evening frock, her breast rising and falling as though something had
suddenly frightened her, her eyes wide and startled.
Pages:
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585