CHAPTER XX
Aymer gazed out of the open window at Christopher and Peter Masters as they walked to and fro on the terrace. He knew the subject they were discussing, and he was already sure how it would end. But what were the real issues involved he could not determine, and he was impotent, by reason of his vow and will, to influence them. He could only lie still and watch, tortured by jealous fear and the physical helplessness that forbade him the one relief of movement for which his soul craved. The patience the long years had schooled him into was slipping away, and the elementary forces of his nature reigned in its stead.
Under the overmastering impulse towards action he made a futile effort to sit up that he might better follow the movements of the two outside. It was a pathetic failure, and he swore fiercely as he fell back and found his father’s arms round him.
“Aymer, if you are going to be so childish, I shall tell Christopher not to go.”
“No. I’m a fool, but I won’t have him know it. He must go if he will.”
“There is nothing to fear if he does. What is wrong with you?”
“I want to go back to town, I’m tired of this.”
“You are far better here than in town,” said his father uneasily.
“I’m well enough anywhere.”