"Well, I'm getting on and it's late days for me, but you've got all your
life before you and will do great things, take my word for it. Only don't
be discouraged because the Stay-at-homes don't come to you all at once.
Give 'em time--they'll come...."
This seemed to Peter, at this moment of a whole welter of doubt and
confusion and misunderstanding of people's motives and positions, to
explain a great deal. Was that the reason why he'd been so happy in old
Zachary Tan's shop years ago? Why he'd been happy through all that
existence at the bookshop, those absurd unreal conspirators--happy, yes,
even when starving with Stephen in Bucket Lane.
He was then in his right company--explorers one and all. Whereas
here?--Now? Had he ever been happy at The Roundabout except during the
first year, and afterwards when Stephen came? And was not that, too, the
explanation of young Stephen's happiness upon the arrival of Mr. Zanti and
Brant? Did he not recognise them for what they were, explorers? He being a
young explorer himself.
On the other side Mrs. Rossiter, Clare, Cards, old Bobby who in spite of
his affection never understood half the things that Peter did or said, the
Galleons, old Mrs. Galleon and Percival and his sister?... Had Henry
Galleon known that dividing-line and suffered under it all his life, and
borne it and perhaps conquered it?
And Peter suddenly, standing at his window watching London caught by the
evening light, saw for an instant his work in front of him again.
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