“Oh, I shall be all right.” He was very gruff. He felt now a furious angry reluctance at leaving her behind. He stormed at himself as a fool; one of the things that the strong man must learn of life is to be ruthless in these partings and breaking of relations. He stood further away from her and spoke as though he hated being there.
She understood him with wonderful tenderness.
“Well,” she said cheerfully, “I daresay it will be better for you to try for a little and see what you can make of it all. And then if you want anything you'll come back to us, won't you?... You promise that?”
“Of course.”
“And then there's the book. I know that man in Heriot and Lord's that I told you about. I'll send it to them right away, if you like.”
“Aren't they rather tremendous people for me to begin with? Oughtn't I to begin with some one smaller?”
“Oh! there's no harm in starting at the top. They can't do more than refuse it. But I don't think they will. I believe in it. But how shall I let you know what they say?”
“Oh, I'll come in a week or two and see what's happening—I'll be on a paper by then probably. I say, I don't want the others to know. I'll have supper with them as usual and just tell Mother Brockett afterwards. I don't want to have to say good-bye lots of times. Well”—he moved off awkwardly towards the door—“You've been most tremendously good to me.”
“Rot, Peter: Don't forget me!”
“Forget you! The best pal I've ever had.” They clasped hands for a moment. There was a pause and then Peter said: “I say—there is a thing you can do if you like—”