He had stopped on the steep of the road; her feet had been lagging to keep pace with him. He breathed hard through white-edged lips. She had seen him look like that before. The day they had walked to the Thames, to look at the ships, over the windy Flats.
He looked at her. A look she hadn't seen before. A look of passionate unbelief.
"I didn't think you cared about me. I thought it was Mark you cared about. Like Mamma."
"Can't you care about more than one person?"
"Mamma can't—"
"Oh Roddy—"
"What's the good of saying 'Oh Roddy' when you know it?"
They were sitting on a ledge of stone and turf. Roddy had ceased to struggle with the hill.
"We're all the same," he said. "I'd give you and Dan up any day for Mark.
Dan would give up you and me. Mark would give up all of us for Mamma. And
Mamma would give up all of us for Mark."
Roddy had never said anything like that before.