the
small pale face, the half wistful brows were cocked with a kind of
whimsical and gentle humour, the same humour that twitched constantly
at the corners of his wide and flexible mouth. Peter was not a beautiful
person, but one liked, somehow, to look at him and to meet his
half-enquiring, half-amused, wholly friendly and sympathetic regard.
By the end of his first term at school, he found himself unaccountably
popular. Already he was called "Margery" and seldom seen by himself. He
enjoyed life, because he liked people and they liked him, and things in
general were rather jolly and very funny, even with a dislocated
shoulder. Also the great Urquhart would, when he remembered, take a
little notice of Peter--enough to inflate the young gentleman's spirit
like a blown-out balloon and send him soaring skywards, to float gently
down again at his leisure.

Towards the end of the term, Peter's half-brother Hilary came to visit
him. Hilary was tall and slim and dark and rather beautiful, and he lived
abroad and painted, and he told Peter that he was going to be married to
a woman called Peggy Callaghan. Peter, who had always admired Hilary from
afar, was rather sorry. The woman Peggy Callaghan would, he vaguely
believed, come between Hilary and his family; and already there were more
than enough of such obstacles to intercourse. But at tea-time he saw the
woman, and she was large and fair and laughing, and called him, in her
rich, amused voice "little brother dear," and he did not mind at all,
but liked her and her laugh and her mirthful, lazy eyes.

Peter was a large-minded person; he did not mind that Hilary wore no
collar and a floppy tie. He did not mind this even when they met Urquhart
in the street. Peter whispered as he passed, "_That's_ Urquhart," and
Hilary suddenly stopped and held out his hand, and said pleasantly, "I am
glad to meet you." Peter blushed at that, naturally (for Hilary's cheek,
not for his tie), and hoped that Urquhart wasn't much offended, but that
he understood what half-brothers who lived abroad and painted were, and
didn't think it was Peter's fault. Urquhart shook hands quite pleasantly,
and when Hilary added, "We shared a stepmother, you and I; I'm Peter's
half-brother, you know," he amiably agreed. Peter hoped he didn't think
that the Urquhart-Margerison connection was being strained beyond due
bounds. Hilary said further, "You've been very good to my young brother,
I know," and it was charac