Another person who came to see Peter sometimes was Rodney. Ever since the Margerisons' abrupt fall into ignominy, Rodney had cultivated Peter's acquaintance. Peter perceived that he had at last slipped into the ranks of those unfortunates who were qualified for Rodney's regard; it was enough for that, Urquhart had long since told him, to be cut by society or to produce a yesterday's handkerchief. Peter, driven from the faces of the rich, found Rodney waiting to receive him cheerfully among the ranks of the poor. Rodney was a much occupied person; but when he found time from his other pursuits he walked up from his Westminster slum to Holborn and visited 9 Greville Street. He hadn't known quite what to make of Peter's marriage; though when he got to know Rhoda a little he began to understand rather more. She, being very manifestly among the Have-Nots, and a small, weak, and pitiable thing, also entered in a manner into the circle of his tolerance. He was gentle with her always, though not expansive. She was a little in awe of the gaunt young man, with his strange eyes that seemed to see so much further than anyone else's. She pronounced him "queer." "I suppose he's very clever," she said to Peter. "Yes," Peter agreed. But even that didn't further him in Rhoda's regard. She thought him rude, as indeed he was, though he tried to conceal it. He seldom spoke to her, and when he did it was with an unadorned brevity that offended her. Mostly he let her alone, and saw Peter when he could outside his home. Rodney, himself a celibate, thought matrimony a mistake, though certainly a necessary mistake if the human race was to continue to adorn the earth--a doubtful ornament to it, in Rodney's opinion. Rhoda said one evening to Peter, "You don't see anything of your friends the Urquharts now, do you?" "No," said Peter, who was stroking the kitten's fur the wrong way, to bring sparks out of it before the gas was lit. "They've been in the country all the winter." "Mr. Urquhart got elected a member, didn't he?" said Rhoda, without much interest. "Yes," said Peter. "I suppose they'll be coming up to town soon, then, for him to attend Parliament." Peter supposed they would. "When last Lucy wrote, she said they were coming up this month." "Have you heard from her again, since Monday week?" enquired Rhoda. "No. We write alternate Sundays, you know. We always have. Last Sunday it was my turn." "Fancy going on all these years so regular," said Rhoda. "I couldn't, not to any of my cousins. I should use up all there was to say." "Oh, but there are quite new things every fortnight," Peter explained. Certainly it wasn't easy to picture Rhoda corresponding with any of the Johnson relatives once a fortnight. "I expect you and she have heaps to tell each other always when you meet," said Rhoda, a little plaintive note in her weak voice. Peter considered.