Cranly seized his arm and steered him round so as to lead him back towards Leeson Park. He laughed almost slily and pressed Stephen's arm with an elder's affection.
—Cunning indeed! he said. Is it you? You poor poet,you!
—And you made me confess to you, Stephen said,thrilled by his touch, as I have confessed to you so many other things, have I not?
—Yes, my child, Cranly said, still gaily.
—You made me confess the fears that I have. But I will tell you also what I do not fear. I do not fear to be alone or to be spurned for another or to leave whatever I have to leave. And I am not afraid to make a mistake,even a great mistake, a lifelong mistake, and perhaps as long as eternity too.