"You won't get chilled if I am with you," said Piers, pulling off his coat.
When the others had plunged into the lake, and Wake was already screaming with delight and terror at Piers's hands, Renny returned to Finch and said with a fatherly air: "Better come in, Finch; it'll do you good. You've been studying too much."
"No. I d' want to," mumbled the boy against his arm.
"Don't be a duffer," said Renny, poking him with his bare foot. "The more Piers sees he can rattle you the more he'll do it."
"'Tisn't only that."
"Well, look here. It was too bad I gave you that cuff before the others. But you were too damned cheeky. Come along and forget it."
Finch rolled over, disclosing a distorted red face.
"Is there no place I can be let alone?" he bawled. "Have I got to go to the end of the world to be let alone? All I ask is to be let alone, in peace here, and you all come prodding me up!"
"Stay alone, then, you little idiot!" Renny tossed away the cigarette he was smoking and strode to the water's edge.
All very well, Finch thought, for a lordly being like Renny, safe, always sure of himself, unmenaced by dreadful thoughts and bewitchment, of whom even Piers stood in some awe. With his head propped on his hand, he watched his brothers swimming, splashing, diving, the sunshine glistening on their white shoulders. As a creature apart, he watched them, with the idea in his mind that there was a conspiracy against him, that each member of the family played a different part against him, talking him over among themselves, sneering and laughing at him; but, in spite of himself, a slow smile of pleasure in their glistening grace, their agility, crept over
