"I knew it then. I was just going to telegraph to her not to come when I got her letter. No, I didn't know she was right; but I knew we couldn't do it. I didn't know it for myself, either; I had to be told. When I was told, I knew it."
"Ah." Lord Evelyn looked at the pale face, that had suddenly taken a look of age, as of one who looks back into a past bitterness.
"Ah." He looked in silence for a moment, then said, "You've been through a bad time, Peter."
Peter's face twitched suddenly, and he answered nothing.
"All those months," said Lord Evelyn, and his high, unsteady voice shook with a curious tremor, "all that summer, you were in hell."
Peter gave no denial.
"I knew it," said Lord Evelyn. "And you never answered the letter I wrote you."
"No," said Peter slowly. "I answered no letters at all, I think. I don't remember exactly what I did, through that summer. I suppose I lived—because here I am. And I suppose I kept Thomas alive—because he's here too. But for the rest—I don't know. I hated everyone and everything. I believe Rodney used to come and see me sometimes; but I didn't care.... Oh, what's the good of talking about it? It's over now."
Lord Evelyn was shading his face with a shaking hand.
"Poor boy," he muttered to himself. "Poor boy. Poor boy."