"Shouting won't do any good," she said, deeply curious and overwhelmed
by her bewilderment.

"Pull yourself together, Jenny!" he urged. "Look at it from my side if
you can. Try! Imagine I've got a side, that is. And now I'll tell you
something about myself ... no lies; and you'll have to make the best of
the truth. The Truth!" Laughing, he kissed her; and Jenny, puzzled but
intrigued, withheld her indignation in order to listen to the promised
account. Keith began. "Well, Jenny: I told you I was thirty. I'm
thirty-one in a couple of months. I'll tell you the date, and you can
work me a sampler. And I was born in a place you've never set eyes
on--and I hope you never will set eyes on it. I was born in Glasgow. And
there's a smelly old river there, called the Clyde, where they launch
big ships ... a bit bigger than the _Minerva_. The _Minerva_ was built
in Holland. Well, my old father was a tough old chap--not a Scotchman,
though my mother was Scotch--with a big business in Glasgow. He was as
rich as--well, richer than anybody you ever met. Work that out! And he
was as tough as a Glasgow business man. They're a special kind. And I
was his little boy. He had no other little boys. You interested?"

Jenny nodded sharply, her breast against his, so that she felt every
breath he drew.

"Yes: well, my father was so keen that I should grow up into a Glasgow
business man that he nearly killed me. He hated me. Simply because when
I did anything it was always something away from the pattern--the plan.
D'you see? And he'd nearly beat my head in each time.... Yes, wasn't
it!... Well, when I was ten he and I had got into such a way that we
were sworn enemies. He'd got a strong will; but so had I, even though I