This was true for the most part, for Tai was playing in Drew’s suite, while Pat attended him as though he were a little saint.
In the great lounge of the liner Drew was talking seriously with Deane.
“I can’t understand Martin,” he said. “And I must confess that it is impossible for me to live within his orbit.”
“You dislike him so?” Deane raised her dark eyes.
Drew shook his head.
“I can’t connect that term with him,” he answered. “I loved him very deeply at one time. Now, I hate him, or rather, am frightfully jealous of him.”
“Of his sins?” asked Deane.
“No,” replied Drew irritably. “He has no sins. He has none because he does not believe the things he does are wrong.” Drew touched a handkerchief to his head. “Martin,” he continued, “could destroy the world and it would not be sinful. He is selfish, but because he knows it, there is no feeling of blame. He’s like a ghost, and all of the people around him are like ghosts. Even I came to feel like one. There is no reality about him. Yes,” Drew sighed, “he is the most physical creature in the world, and the most untouchable. Oh—I know what you’re thinking, Deane! And I know I’m just putting on.” Suddenly Drew stopped and lit a cigarette for Deane and one for himself.
“I like him the way he is,” said Deane. “I like his unreality. And he isn’t the way you think he is.”
“Oh, no,” said Drew, arching his eyebrows. “Oh, dear no!”