o
happen--something that can't happen unless you make it? Things don't
fall into people's mouths just because they sit with them open."

He coloured. "Everybody's always scolding me," he said.
"Christopher--you--everybody. Nobody understands--how difficult...."

He broke off. So intangible were his difficulties that no words would
define them, and yet, God knew, they were real enough.

"I know--" she said, nodding her head. "It's the thought of them all at
Portland Place that's holding you back. You began by fancying that you
wanted to cut their throats, and you still wouldn't mind slaughtering
them if only they in their turn would do something definite. It's their
doing _nothing_ that just holds you up. But really as long as your
grandmother's alive I'm afraid that it's no good thinking of them. When
she's dead--and she _can't_ live for ever--anything may happen.
Meanwhile why not show them what you _can_ do?"

"But what _can_ I do?" he answered her fiercely. "I've never been
brought up to do anything--except what I oughtn't--There's my arm and
one thing and another--Besides, there's more than that in it, Miss Rand.
It's the fact that--well, that there's nobody that cares that's--so
freezing. If only somebody minded----"

As he spoke Rachel rose, beautifully, wonderfully, before him. There, as
she had been on that first day when she had had tea there, bending
forward, listening, her dark wondering eyes on his face.

Lizzie at the sound of the appeal in his voice had felt her heart
expand, beat, so that her body seemed to hold, suddenly, some great
possession that hurt her by its force and urgency.

But she answered almost sharply:

"Nonsense, Mr. Breton. Excuse me, but I've no patience with that kind of
thing. People are meant to stand alone, not to go leaning about for
other people's support. You're cursed with too much imagination, Mr.
Breton, and you remember too clearly everything that's happened before.
Begin now, as though you were born yesterday, and startle the family by
your energy----"

"Now you're laughing at me," he said hotly. "I dare say I deserve it,
but I don't feel as though I could stand--very much of it from anyone
to-day----"

Then he was astonished by the sudden softness of her voice. "No, no,
please," she said; "I understand so well. But indeed you have got
friends who believe in you. Dr. Christopher, myself, if you'll count me,
and lots more. You'll win everyone in time if you're not