"I expect it's in another existence then," she said; "as I've never
been into New Zealand and you've never been out of it--at least, since
I've been born. But, of course, I've talked about you to Robin. We
speculated, you know. We hadn't any photographs much to help us, and
it was quite a good game."

"Ah! Robin!"

"I want to speak to you about him," she said, turning round to him.
"You won't think me interfering, will you? but I've meant to speak ever
since the other day. I was afraid that, perhaps--don't think it
dreadfully rude of me--you hadn't quite understood Robin. He's at a
difficult age, you know, and there are a lot of things about him that
are quite absurd. And I have been afraid that you might take those
absurdities for the real things and fancy that that was all that was
there. Cambridge--and other things--have made him think that a certain
sort of attitude is essential if you're to get on. I don't think he
even sincerely believes in it. But they have taught him that he must,
at least, seem to believe. The other things are there all right, but
he hides them--he is almost ashamed of any one suspecting their
existence."

"Thank you!" Harry said quietly. "It is very kind of you and I'm
deeply grateful. It's quite true that Robin and I haven't seemed to
hit it off properly. I expect that it is my fault. I have tried to
see his point of view and have the same interests, but every effort
that I've made has seemed to make things worse. He distrusts me, I
think, and--well--of course, that hurts. All the things in which I had
hoped we would share have no interest for him."

"Don't you think, perhaps," she said, "that you've been a little too
anxious--perhaps, a little too affectionate? I am speaking like this
because I care for Robin so much. We have been such good friends for
years now, and I think he has let me see a side of him that he has
hidden from most people. He is curiously sensitive, and really, I
think, very shy; and most of all, he has a perfect horror of being
absurd. That is what I meant about your being affectionate. He would
think, perhaps, that the rest were laughing at him. It's as if you
were dragging something that was very sacred and precious out into the
light before all those others. Boys are like that; they are terrified
lest any one should know what good there is in them--it isn't quite
good form."

They were silent for some time. Harry was throwing her word