It depressed the young man to see how little
in such a project he took account of ways and means: in other connexions
he mostly kept to the measure. Pemberton tried to imagine the Moreens at
Oxford and fortunately failed; yet unless they were to adopt it as a
residence there would be no modus vivendi for Morgan. How could he live
without an allowance, and where was the allowance to come from? He,
Pemberton, might live on Morgan; but how could Morgan live on _him_? What
was to become of him anyhow? Somehow the fact that he was a big boy now,
with better prospects of health, made the question of his future more
difficult. So long as he was markedly frail the great consideration he
inspired seemed enough of an answer to it. But at the bottom of
Pemberton's heart was the recognition of his probably being strong enough
to live and not yet strong enough to struggle or to thrive. Morgan
himself at any rate was in the first flush of the rosiest consciousness
of adolescence, so that the beating of the tempest seemed to him after
all but the voice of life and the challenge of fate.
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