"Common gratitude, damn you, Jack, ought to put more sense in your head," as though one ought to have been "grateful" for a seat at a gambling table and two rooms in a house supported by its profits.

Garry had said "gratitude," too, and so had Corinne, and all the rest of them.

Peter had never talked gratitude; dear Peter, who had done more for him than anybody in the world except his own father.

Peter wanted his love if he wanted anything, and that was what he was going to give him--big, broad, all-absorbing LOVE.

And he did love him.