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Maradick was forty-two or three, large, rather heavy in build and expression and very taciturn. He was in business in the city, but had been drawn, Peter knew not how, into the literary world of London. He was often to be found at dinner parties and evening "squashes" silent, observant and generally alone.
I tell you he shall be We'll be such pals!" He broke off suddenly "You haven't a boy?" "No, mine are both girls. Getting on now they'll soon be coming out. I should like to have had a boy " Maradick sighed. "Are they an awful lot to you?" "No I don't suppose they are. I should have understood a boy better, but they're good girls. I'm proud of them in a way but I'm out so much, you see."
As he moved through the dazzling, noisy rooms he was conscious that there, in the quiet, dark little conservatory, Maradick was sitting, motionless, seeing Treliss. On his way down to the supper room he was filled with annoyance at the thought of his interrupted conversation. He might never have his opportunity again.
"Oh, there you are I've been looking for you everywhere. How are you, Maradick? Look here, Peter, you've got to come down to supper with us. We've got a table Alice, Clare, Millicent, Percival, Tony Gale and his wife and you and I and one other an old friend of yours, Peter."
"It's nothing to do with oneself one's used, that's all. The child will be on its own legs, thrusting you away before you know where you are. It will want to claim its responsibilities ancestors and all " Peter said nothing Maradick went on: "You know we were talking one night and were interrupted you're in danger of letting the things you imagine beat the things you know.
I know," he went on sinking his voice, "there was a time I had once in Cornwall when I was brought pretty close to things of that sort it doesn't leave you the same afterwards. There's a place down in Cornwall called Treliss...." "Treliss!" Peter almost shouted. "Why that's where I come from. I was born there that's my town " Before Maradick could reply Bobby Galleon burst into the conservatory.
Where was I? I'm afraid I've been making a fool of myself...." A church clock struck somewhere in the distance. "Hullo, I say, what's that? That's eleven. I must get back, I ought to be at home " "I'll come with you " Maradick hailed a hansom and helped Peter into it. For a moment there was silence then Maradick said "I hope everything's all right, Westcott? Your wife?"
Peter received at this time a letter that showed him that he had, at any rate, one friend, in the world who believed in him. It was from James Maradick and it was strangely encouraging now at this period of yawning pits from whose blackness he so resolutely turned away. It asked him to go with Maradick as his guest to some Club dinner.
At last Peter said: "By jove, Maradick, yours is a fortunate sort of life just going into the city every day, coming back to your wife in the evening no stupid troubles that come from imagining things that aren't there " "How do you know I don't?" answered Maradick quietly. "Imagination hasn't anything to do with one's profession.
As they drove round the corner, past the mad lady's painted house, he saw that Peter was calmer. He had regained his self-control. The little house where Peter lived was very still the trees in the orchard were stiff and dark beneath the stars. Peter spoke in a whisper "Good-night, Maradick, you've done me a lot of good I shan't forget it." "Good luck to you," Maradick whispered back.
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