He paused and looked at Peter, who was still sitting on the floor, motionless, with bent head.
“May I go on?” said Rodney, and Peter answered nothing.
Rodney looked away again out of the window into a grey night sky that hid the Easter moon, and went on, gently. He was tired of talking; his discourse had been already nearly as long as an average woman; but he went on deliberately talking and talking, to give Peter time.
“So, you see, that is an excellent reason—to you it is, I believe, the incontrovertible reason—why you should once more give up and lose, and not take. But, deeper than that, to me more insurmountable than that, is the true reason, which is simply that that very thing—to lose, to do without—is your business in life, as you’ve said yourself. It’s your profession. You are in the camp of the Have-Nots; you belong there. You can’t desert. You can’t step out and go over to the enemy. If you did, if you could (only you can’t) it would be a betrayal. And, whatever you gained, you’d lose by it what you have at present—your fellowship with the other unfortunates. Isn’t that a thing worth having? Isn’t it something to be down on the ground with the poor and empty-handed, not above them, where you can’t hear them crying and laughing? Would you, if you could, be one of the prosperous, who don’t care? Would you, if you could, be one of those who have their joy in life ready-made and put into their hands, instead of one of the poor craftsmen who have to make their own? What’s