"Good," Galahad says, softly decisive. Lancelot never feels like a father to him now, but some vague sense of responsibility remains -- as if Lancelot were a long-lost younger brother, whose well-being matters. Galahad likes Susan very much; he likes Laertes and Grantaire. He can imagine they're all easier to love and be loved by than an unhappy queen. This is a place for choosing. He's glad that Lancelot is choosing happiness.