She said to herself that parents were often unreasonable, expecting impossibilities, in their wild desire for perfection in their offspring.  An outsider, being unprejudiced by anxiety, could judge more fairly.  John found that the telegram, which had almost broken her heart, was reasonable and justified; nay, even that it displayed a dutiful regard for her safety and comfort, of which no one but a stranger could possibly have suspected Peter.  She was grateful to John.  It was a relief and joy to feel that it was she who was to blame, and not Peter, whose heart was in the right place, after all.  And yet, though John was so clever and had such an experience of human nature, it was the doctor who had put the key into his hands, which presently unlocked Lady Mary’s confidence.

“You mustn’t think, John, that I don’t understand what it will be like later, when Peter comes of age.  Of course this house will be his, and he is not the kind of young man to be tied to his mother’s apron-string.  He always wanted to be independent.”

“It is human nature,” said John.

“I am not blind to his faults,” said Lady Mary, humbly, “though they all think so.  It is of little use to try and hide them from you, who will see them for yourself directly my darling comes back.  I pray God it may be soon.  Of course he is spoilt; but I am to blame, because I made him my idol.”

“An only son is always more or less spoilt,” said John.  He remembered his own boyhood, and smiled sardonically in the darkness.  “He will grow out of it.  He will come back a man after this experience.”

“Yes, yes, and he will want to live his life, and I—­I shall have to learn to do without him, I know,” she said.  “I must learn while he is away to—­to depend on myself.  It is not likely that—­that a woman of my age should have much in common with a manly boy like Peter.  Sometimes I wonder whether I really understand my boy at all.”

“It is my belief,” said John, “that no generation is in perfect touch with another.  Each stands on a different rung of the ladder of Time.  You may stoop to lend a helping hand to the younger, or reach upwards to take a farewell of the older.  But there must be a looking down or a looking up.  No face-to-face talk is possible except upon the same level.  No real and true comradeship.  The very word implies a marching together, under the same circumstances, to a common goal; and how can we, who have to be the commanding officers of the young, be their true companions?” he said, lightly and cheerfully.

“I dare say I have expected impossibilities,” said Lady Mary, as though reproaching herself.  “It comforts me to think so.  But I have had time to reflect on many things since—­February.”  She paused.  “I don’t deny I have tried to make plans for the future.  But there are these days to be lived through first—­until he comes home.”

“I was going to propose,” said John, “that, if agreeable to you, I should spend my summer and autumn holiday here, instead of going, as usual, to Switzerland.”