“Why, Horace, what’s the matter?”
Robin put his hand on young Trevert’s shoulder. Horace shook him roughly off.
“I don’t care to discuss it with you, Robin!” he said.
Robin deliberately swung the boy round until he faced him.
“My dear old thing,” he expostulated. “What does it all mean? What won’t you discuss with me?”
Horace Trevert looked straight at the speaker. His upper lip was pouted and trembled a little.
“What’s the use of talking?” he said. “You know what I mean. Or would you like me to be plainer ...”
Robin met his gaze unflinchingly.
“I certainly would,” he said, “if it’s going to enlighten me as to why you should suddenly choose to behave like a lunatic ...”
Horace Trevert leant back and thrust his hands into his pockets.