‘Then Peter is his name.’
‘Michael Peter,’ emphasized Julian mockingly. ‘Mariella had the highest motives; but I fear she has done for him. Michael alone or Peter alone he might have stood up against—but the combination! I tremble for his adolescence. However he ought to have a spurious charm, at any rate until he leaves the university. The only hope is that he himself may find the double burden excessive, and cancel himself out to a healthy James or Henry. We could do with a Henry or so in our family. Perhaps after all we should commend your far-sightedness, Mariella?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said in her little cheerful voice. ‘I think Michael Peter is a very nice name. And he’s quite a nice boy, isn’t he?’
He was running up and down the lawn with the puppy in pursuit, pawing at him, nipping his calves, tripping him up. At first he bore it equably, but after a while stopped in distress, pushing at the dog with impotent delicate hands, nervously exclaiming and as if expostulating with him in a language of his own, but not once looking towards any of them for assistance. The puppy crouched before him, and all at once let out a sharp yelp of excitement. He put his hands up to his ears. His lip shook.
‘Damn that puppy!’ said Julian furiously. He strode over to his nephew and lifted him in his arms.
‘The boy’s tired, Mariella, and you know it, and there you sit, calmly, calmly,—and let that damn fool noisy puppy bully him and pester him and smash his nerves....’
He was white. He stared with naked antagonism at Mariella, and the air seemed to quiver and grow taut between them. She got up swiftly to catch the puppy and touched her son’s head in passing.
‘Poor Peter-boy,’ she said quietly. ‘Silly boy! It’s all right.’
‘I must go,’ murmured Judith.
It was unbearable. She must slip away and hide from the shame and shock of her own perception of the suppressed hysteria.