Whatever may have been the pressing business that caused Peter Masters to seek his cousin's company in so speedy a manner, the immediate necessity of it seemed to have evaporated on the journey. He sat talking of various things to Aymer and Charles Aston, but uttered nothing as to the reason of his visit, and Mr. Aston, with his eye on Aymer, chafed a little and found it hard to maintain his usual serenity. Aymer, on the contrary, seemed more deliberate and placid than usual; there was a slowness in his speech, and an unusual willingness to leave the conversation in his visitor's hands as if he mistrusted his own powers to keep it in desirable channels. He appeared to have suddenly abdicated his position on the objective positive side of life and to have become a mere passive instrument of the hour, subjective and unresisting. It was his father who was ready, armed against fate, alert, watchful to ward off all that might harm or distress his eldest son. Peter spoke of their exodus from London, their sojourn in the country, told them anecdotes of big deals, and was, in his big, burly, shrewd way, amusing and less ruthlessly tactless than usual. He had long ago given up all hope of interesting Aymer in a financial career, but he nevertheless retained a curiously respectful belief in his cousin's mental powers. "By the way," he said presently, "I've not bought a car yet. That boy of yours seems to know something about them. Do you think he could be trusted to choose one for me?" "Perfectly." Aymer's tone was completely impartial, and Peter ruminated over his next remark a moment. "You still mean him to stick to his Road Engineering?" "He is perfectly free to do as he likes." Charles Aston put in a word. "He is twenty-two now, and he knows his own mind a good deal better than most boys of that age. He seems bent on carrying out his Road scheme, and there seems no reason why he should not." He pushed over a box of cigars to his visitor. "No, exactly. No reason at all." Peter selected a cigar carefully. "I expect you find it very interesting watching how he turns out, don't you, Aymer?" "It is not uninteresting." "You've not seen Nevil yet," suggested Mr. Aston. "He is just out of a spell of work; come out in the garden and find him while you smoke." "Well, perhaps we might, if you don't mind being left, Aymer?" Peter's voice was full of kindly interest. To him the great catastrophe was ever a new and awful thing, and Aymer an invalid to be considered and treated with such attention as he knew how. "Not in the least," said Aymer politely, marvelling how exactly his father had gauged the limits of his endurance. When the heavy curtained door had shut out voices and footsteps and only the stillness of the room was with him the forced passivity slipped from Aymer like a mask, and his was again the face of a fighter, of one still fighting against fearful odds.