“It’s the system on which life goes—on this planet,” Peter contributed, but Ames had not had a biological training, and was unprepared to take that up.
“Too much of it,” said Ames.
“Over-sexed,” said Peter.
“Whether one ought to hold oneself in or let oneself go,” said Ames. “But perhaps these things don’t bother you?”
Peter wasn’t disposed towards confidences with Ames. “I’m moderate in all things,” he said.
“Lucky chap! I’ve worried about this business no end. One doesn’t want to use up all one’s life like a blessed monkey. There’s other things in life—if only this everlasting want-a-girl want-a-woman would let one get at them.”
His voice at Peter’s shoulder ceased for a while, and then resumed. “It’s the best chaps, seems to me, who get it worst. Chaps with imaginations, I mean, men of vitality. Take old Probyn. He could have done anything—anything. And he was eaten up. Like a fever....”
Ames went down into a black silence for a couple of minutes or more, and came up again with an astonishing resolution. “I shall marry,” he said.
“Got the lady?” asked Peter.
“Near enough,” said Ames darkly.