"There are some who are neither," said Dr. Spenlove, who was not disposed to hurry his visitor. His mind was easy as to his departure from Portsmouth, and he divined from the course the conversation was taking that Mr. Moss had news of a special nature to communicate. He deemed it wisest to allow him to break it in his own way. "They are the best off," responded Mr. Moss; "brains well balanced--an even scale, doctor--then you can steer straight and to your own advantage. Women are the weakest, as you say; too much heart, too much sentiment. All very well in its proper place, but it weighs one side of the scale down. Mrs. Moss isn't much better than other women in that respect. She has her whims and crotchets, and doesn't always take the business view." "Implying that you do, Mr. Moss?" "Of course I do; should be ashamed of myself if I didn't. What do I live for? Business. What do I live by? Business. What do I enjoy most? Business, and plenty of it!" He rubbed his hands together joyously. "I should have no objection to paint on my shop door, 'Mr. Moss, Business Man.' People would know it would be no use trying to get the best of me. They don't get it as it is." "You are unjust to yourself. Was it business last night that made you pay the cabman, and sent you out to buy coals and food for an unfortunate creature you had never seen before?" "That was a little luxury," said Mr. Moss, with a sly chuckle, "which we business men indulge in occasionally to sharpen up our faculties. It is an investment, and it pays; it puts us on good terms with ourselves. If you think I have a bit of sentiment in me you are mistaken." "I paint your portrait for myself," protested Dr. Spenlove, "and I shall not allow you to disfigure it. Granted that you keep as a rule to the main road--Business Road, we will call it, if you like----" "Very good, doctor, very good." "You walk along, driving bargains, and making money honestly----" "Thank you, doctor," interposed Mr. Moss, rather gravely. "There are people who don't do us so much justice." "When unexpectedly," continued Dr. Spenlove, with tender gaiety, "you chance upon a little narrow path to the right or the left of you, and, your eye lighting on it, you observe a stretch of woodland, a touch of bright colour, a picture of human suffering, that appeals to your poetical instinct, to your musical tastes, or to your humanity. Down you plunge towards it, to the confusion, for the time being, of Business Road and its business attractions."