Farther aloof in the hierarchy stood Jonas, and dimly beyond, the ominous, still figure of Marsden. Marsden was unable to play and could not even hobble without a crutch. He was, hence, despicable,--to be clandestinely made fun of. But he was by no means to be pitied. He might perhaps have elicited this feeling, had he not been so powerful, and had not mother and father so tiringly harped upon the need of it. Deep in the weave of Quincy’s life was this order of his parents to respect Marsden, to do his bidding, to look out for him. And in addition, there were his sharp, piercing eyes, the ugly curl of his thin lips, the hautain raise of his brow and, worst of all, his utter contempt and disregard for everything of Quincy’s. Against these elements, no natural affections could have prevailed. So Marsden was disliked, envied and as far as possible avoided. Matters were different with Jonas. Approach to him was also difficult, as with Marsden or Rhoda. The distinction lay in the fact that it was a desirable, almost a dreamed-of thing. And in the active aloofness of this young, boisterous god, through the logic of his affection, Quincy read not a fault, but an added splendor. Jonas was apart, in his six more years. But he was justly, fitly so, in Quincy’s mind. And the fond hope was born in him that perhaps, some time, if only Jonas did not increase too rapidly and he could accelerate _his_ rate, he might catch up, and a roseate fellowship be brought about. Meantime, however, there was Adelaide, in whose seniority he felt a gentle guidance toward the elusive source of pleasure and away from the forever lurking shadow of misfortune. But this alliance was short-lived. Nor was this entirely without fault in Quincy. Doubtless, a moving factor in Adelaide’s defection was the longing she nursed to be of the company of Rhoda. Herein, her state was like that of Quincy toward his brother. But whereas the boy had felt a justice, fashioned almost a glory in his brother’s pointed superiority, Adelaide had resented this in Rhoda. Having resented it, she turned to Quincy, with, however, a tinge of spite upon her feeling. And when, at length, Rhoda opened the way toward comradeship, her real desire to join her ranks, to exercise her smouldering sex-patriotism, was bound to show.