Fury of her son. Nobody has said anything to you—nor interfered. I haven’t. Why do you object?’ She stood facing Peter. It seemed that for the first time they were really alone together. ‘It’s just that I don’t understand,’ said Peter. ‘I know I went up there last time. And I don’t mind going again—but …’ ‘But what?’ asked the mother sharply. ‘But what? You don’t understand. Nobody is asking you to. Will you take this message or not? If you were not always in such a dreadful rush to be out, I might ask you to look after your grandfather once in a while. All I want you to do is take this message.’ She spread out her hands. ‘Peter!’ she said, and flung her arms round his neck. ‘Peter! How I should loathe myself if I thought that you were just like the rest of them. You see—your father is gone. That makes a difference, doesn’t it? Please do what I ask. I shan’t always ask you.’ Then she broke away from him, and exclaimed angrily, ‘Do you want me to go down on my knees to you?’ ‘Give me the note and the money,’ he said brusquely.
