Surely, they're happier with us than they could have been without
us? Brian's scheme for their visits to the liberated towns is doing good
to them and to hundreds--even thousands--of people whom they intend to
help.
All this is sophistry, no doubt, but oh, it's beguiling sophistry! It's
so perfectly disguised that I seldom recognize it except at night when
I lie awake, and it sits on my bed, without its becoming mask.
Being the Becketts' adviser-in-chief, and having his lungs full of ozone
every day should be enough to account for Brian's improvement.
Yet--well, I can't help thinking that he takes a lot more trouble than
he need for Dierdre O'Farrell. Oh, not that he's _in love_! Such an idea
is ridiculous, but he's interested and sorry for the girl, because she
goes about with a chip on her shoulder, defying the world to knock it
off. He won't admit that it's the fault of her outlook on the world, and
that the poor old world isn't to blame at all.
What if he knew the truth about that brother and sister? Naturally I
can't tell him, of all people on earth, and they take advantage of my
handicap. They've used their time well, in my absence, when they had
Brian to themselves. He had his doubts of Julian, but the creature has
sung himself into my blind brother's heart. From what I hear, the three
have spent most of their time at the piano in the private _salon_ which
the Becketts invited the O'Farrells to engage.
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