"It depends," Eustace rejoined curtly. "It is if you mean it. If you don't, it's not worth--that," with a snap of the fingers.
"I do mean it," said Scott, flushing.
"You do?" Eustace looked at him still more searchingly.
"I always mean what I say," Scott returned with deliberation.
"And you meant what you said this morning?" Eustace pounced without mercy upon the weak spot.
But the armour was proof. Scott remained steadfast. "I meant it--yes. But I might have put it in a different form. I lost my temper. I am sorry."
Eustace continued to regard him with a straight, unsparing scrutiny. "And you consider that to be the sort of apology I can accept?" he asked, after a moment.
"I think you might accept it, old chap," Scott made pacific rejoinder.
Eustace turned back to the table, and began to put his papers together. "I might do many things," he observed, "which, not being a weak-kneed fool, I don't. If you really wish to make your peace with me, you had better do your best to make amends--to pull with me and not against me. For I warn you, Stumpy, you went too far last night. And it is not the first time."
He paused, as if he expected a disclaimer.
Scott waited a second or two; then with a very winning movement he bent and laid his arm across his brother's shoulders. "Try and bear with me, dear chap!" he said.
His voice was not wholly steady. There was entreaty in his action.
Eustace made a sharp gesture of surprise, but he did not repel him. There fell a brief silence between them; then Scott's hand came gently down and closed upon his brother's.
"Life isn't so confoundedly easy at the best of times," he said, speaking almost under his breath. "I'm generally philosopher enough to take it as it comes. But just lately--" he broke off. "Let it be pax, Eustace!" he urged in a whisper.
Eustace's hand remained for a moment or two stiffly unresponsive; then very suddenly it closed and held.
"What's the matter with you?" he said gruffly.
"Oh, I'm a fool, that's all," Scott answered, and uttered a shaky laugh. "Never mind! Forget it like a dear fellow! God knows I don't want to pull against you; but, old chap, we must go slow."
It was the conclusion that events had forced upon Eustace himself during the night, but he chafed against acknowledging it. "There's no sense in drifting on in the same old hopeless way for ever," he said. "We have got to make a stand; and it's now or never."