He knew them at once—he never doubted that they were Robin's. The last two steps were taken slowly and with hesitation.
Then he hurried down the passage as though he had suddenly made up his mind; then, again, there was a long pause before the door. At last came the knock, timidly, and then another loudly and almost violently.
Harry shouted "Come in," and Robin entered, his face pale and his hands twisting and untwisting.
"Ah, Robin—do you want anything? Come in—sit down. I've been asleep."
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you up? No, thanks, I won't sit down. I've got some things I want to say. I'd rather say them standing up."
There was a long pause. Harry said nothing and stared into the fire.
"I've got a good lot to say altogether." Robin cleared his throat. "It's rather hard. Perhaps this doesn't seem quite the time—after grandfather—and—everything—but I couldn't wait very well. I've been a bit uncomfortable."
"Out with it," said Harry. "This time will do excellently—there's a pause just now, but to-morrow everything will begin again and there's a terrible lot to do. What is it?"
Was it, he wondered, Robin's fault or his own that there was that barrier so strangely defined between them even now? He could feel it there in the room with them now. He wondered whether Robin felt it as well.
"It is about what my aunt said to you this morning—and other things—other things right from the beginning, ever since you came back. I'm not much of a chap at talking, and probably I shan't say what I mean, but I will try. I've been thinking about it all lately, but what made me come and speak to you was this morning—having to ask you a favour after being so rude to you. A chap doesn't like doing that, and it made me think—besides there being other things."