"In Trethgarten Square," Peter reminded her, "we are told that you settle your account just by _being_; that you manage somehow to become something so superior and delectable that the rest of us are willing to pay for the privilege of having you about." He would have liked to add that recently, no later in fact than the evening before, he had come to think that this was so, but as she hesitated in her walk beside him, he saw that she was concerned in putting the case to herself quite as much as to him. "It's not that exactly; more perhaps that our whole thought about life is to live it so that there won't be anything to pay. We have to manage to add things up like a column of figures with nothing to carry. Perhaps that's why we get so little out of it." "Don't you?"--he was genuinely surprised, "get anything out of it, I mean." "Oh, but I'm a selfish beast, I suppose! I want more--more!" They swung as she spoke into a broad beam of yellow light raying out from the library window, and he saw by it that with the word she flung out her arms with a lovely upward motion that lifted his mood to the crest of audacity. "If you keep on looking like that," Peter assured her, "you'll get it." He was struck dumb immediately after with apprehension. It sounded daring, like a thing said in a book; but she took it as it came lightly off the tip of his impulse, laughing. "Yes ... the great difficulty is choosing which of so many things one really wants." They walked on then in silence, the air darkling after the sudden shaft of illumination, the light folds of her scarf brushing his sleeve. Peter was considering how he might say, without precipitation, how suddenly she had limited and defined all the things that he wanted by expressing them so perfectly in herself, when she interrupted him. "There's our moth again," she pointed; "he settles it by taking all of them. It's a possibility denied to us." "Even he," Peter insisted, "has to reckon with such incidents as my dropping on him just now. I might have wanted him for a collection." "Oh, if he takes us into account it must be as men used to think of the gods walking." Suddenly the familiar beds and hedges widened for Peter; they stretched warm and tender to the borders of youth and the unmatched Wonder.... It was so they had talked when they walked together in the Garden which was about the House.... For some time after Miss Goodward left him Peter remained walking up and down, thinking of many things and unable to think of them clearly because of a pleasant blur of excitement in his brain. As he came finally back to the house he heard the Lessings talking from behind one of the open windows. "My word, that car was never out of the shop before," Julian was saying. "He's a _goner!_" "And that lovely, dusty, brown colour that goes so well with her hair! Who would have thought Peter would be so noticing."