Maxwell made no direct reply. ‘If Miss Cherry has spoken to you, Beresford, you know your sister,’ he said. ‘She would not hurt a fly--much less you, whom she holds in such high respect; and she would not think evil readily--would she, now? If she has spoken, you must understand that there is something in it. Listen, my dear fellow. There are things that must be done and left undone in this world for the sake of the fools in it merely. You know that as well as I do. Say the fools ought to be defied and crushed if you like, but in reality we have all to consider them. The people of bad imaginations and low minds and mean views really make the laws for the rest of the world. We can’t help it. For ourselves it might not matter; but for those who are dear to us--for those who are less independent than we----’ Again there was a pause. Beresford sat with his elbows on the table and bit his nails savagely. In this painful amusement there seemed a certain relief. He stared straight before him, seeing nothing. At last he turned round sharply upon the doctor, who, with his head bent down, still sat scribbling without any ink with the old stump of the pen in his hand. ‘What do you want me to do?’ he said. ‘Beresford, I did not come here to dictate to you. I came simply to call your attention----’ ‘Oh, let us not quibble about words! Dictation! yes, and something more than dictation. Of course I am helpless before the plea you bring up. Of course I have nothing to do but submit, if there is any question of annoyance to---- Low minds and bad imaginations, indeed! That anyone should suggest the most distant possibility, the shadow of a reproach!’ ‘We suggest nothing of the sort, Beresford. We suggest only a most simple precaution--a rule ordinarily observed.’