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been dead, as a matter of fact, about three hundred years.’

Robert sat down. ‘It’s a good job there was no one about when I asked you,’ he said, with an uneasy laugh. ‘But it’s not exactly my fault that I am so ignorant. I don’t think that I ever really had time to learn things. There was always something: what with father being sick and that—and no money in the house most times, except the bit I was able to pick up.’

Geoffrey let his hand fall on his brother's. ‘I am a brute,’ he said, flushing. ‘Every word you say is true and a thousand more. God forgive me, old chap; you are worth a hundred such wretches as I! I have had all the good things of life and made nothing of them, while you have had to remain content with the crumbs.’ He rose and resumed his pacing of the room. ‘If there were any way of escape,’ he muttered. ‘Is this to go on all our lives? For that’s the devil of it—in a few years we shall cease to care, like every one else. Look at the beggars up in the township. A lot of young-old men, half of them bachelors, living a life of drift and satisfied. If I am to be content with such a life I should prefer to die now, while the lust for something better is gnawing my heart out. Are you content with the prospect?’ he asked suddenly, facing his brother.

Robert looked ponderingly at the wall in front of him. ‘I was telling you about Thomas’s place,’ he said slowly; ‘but that’s not the only one, and they all say the same thing. They stuck to it year after year, and the life was hard, there’s no denying, but in the end they—got—there.’