Meanwhile the boy had grown into a man; here was a new Martin
deep in experiences, desires, ambitions of which his father could
have no perception. Even in the moment that he was aware of the
possibility of losing his son he was aware also of the deep almost
fanatical resolve to keep him, to hold him at all costs.
This was to be the test of his whole earthly life. He seemed, as he
sat there, looking across at his boy, to challenge God Himself to
take him from him. It was as though he said:
"This reward at least I have a right to ask. I demand it . . ."
Martin, on his side, was conscious of a profound discomfort. He had,
increasingly as the years had passed, wished to take life easily and
pleasantly. Suddenly now another world rose up before him. Yes,
another world. He was not fool enough to dismiss it simply because
it did not resemble his own. Moreover it had been once his, and this
was increasingly borne in upon him. But it all seemed to him now
incredibly old, childish and even fantastic, as though here, in the
middle of London, he had suddenly stepped into a little wood with a
witch, a cottage and a boiling cauldron.
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