Peter smiled a little at her.  “Why, yes, of course it’s a joke.  Everything is, isn’t it.  But ... but....”

He was more than ever a child, stammering unwordable protest, blindly reaching out for help.

Hilary stood before him now, with his hands in his pockets, nervous, irritable, weary, shame now masked by self-defence.  That was better; but still Peter kept his eyes for the curled-up child.

“My dear boy,” said Hilary, in his sweet, plaintive tones, edged with irritation, “if people like to be taken in, is it my business?”

And Peggy echoed, “Yes, Peter darling, is it Hilary’s business?”

Then Peter laughed suddenly.  After all, it was all too hopeless, and too absurd, for anything else.

“You can’t go on, you know,” he said then.  “You’ve got to resign.”  And Peggy looked at him in surprise, for he spoke now like a man instead of a child, with a man’s finality.  He wasn’t giving a command, but stating an obvious fact.

“Darling—­we’ve got to live!” Peggy murmured.

“You mayn’t see the necessity,” Hilary ironically put the approved answer into Peter’s mouth, “but we, unfortunately, do.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” said Peter unusually.  “You are being silly, you know; merely absurd.  Because, of course, it’s simply a question between resigning and being chucked out before long.  You can’t go on with this sort of thing indefinitely.  You see,” he explained, apologetic now, “it isn’t even as if you did it well.  You really don’t.  And it’s an awfully easy thing to see through, if once anyone gets on the track.  All that rubbish you’ve saddled Lord Evelyn with—­anyone who isn’t as blind as a bat can spot it in a minute.  I did; Cheriton has (that’s why he’s so queer-mannered, by the way, I suppose); probably Denis has.  Well, with everyone knowing about it like that, someone is bound before long to ferret out the real facts.  Cheriton won’t be long, I fancy, before he gets hold of it all.  And then—­and then it will be so frightfully awkward.  Oh, you can’t go on, Hilary; you’ve got to drop it.”

“You’re talking very lightly,” said Hilary, “of throwing up one’s entire income.”

Peter sighed.  “Not lightly; I’m really not.  I know what a bore it will be—­but not such a bore as the other thing....  Well, then, don’t throw it up:  simply chuck Stefani and the rest, and run the thing on different lines.  I’d help, if you’d let me.  I’d chuck Leslie and stay on here and write for you.  I would love to.  I made a start to-day, you see; I told Stefani he was out of his reckonings, so he’ll be prepared.  We’ll tell all the rest the same....  I suppose Vyvian’s in it, too?  Can’t you get rid of the man?  I do so dislike him, you know.  Well, never mind; anyhow, we’ll tell him he’s got to run on new lines now.  Oh, we’ll make a decent thing of the Gem after all; Hilary, do let’s.  Peggy, don’t you think that would be jolly?”