“Then make me believe in them and their generosity,” he said dryly. “They’re nice. But they haven’t got the last everlasting central bit of soul, solitary soul, that makes a man himself. The central bit of himself. They all merge to the outside, away from the centre. And what can you do, _permanently_, with such people? You can have a fine corn-stalk blaze. But as for anything permanent--” “I tell you I _hate_ permanency,” barked Kangaroo. “The phœnix rises out of the ashes.” He rolled over angrily in his chair. “Let her! Like Rider Haggard’s _She_, I don’t feel like risking it a second time,” said Somers, like the venomous serpent he was. “Generous, generous men!” Kangaroo muttered to himself. “At least you can get a blaze out of them. Not like European wet matches, that will never again strike alight--as you’ve said yourself.” “But a blaze for what? What’s your blaze for?” “I don’t care,” yelled Kangaroo, springing with sudden magnificent swiftness to his feet, and facing Somers, and seizing him by the shoulders and shaking him till his head nearly fell of, yelling all the time: “I don’t care, I tell you, I don’t care. Where there’s fire there’s change. And where the fire is love, there’s creation. Seeds of fire. That’s enough for me! Fire, and seeds of fire, and love. That’s all I care about. Don’t carp at me, I tell you. Don’t carp at me with your old, European, damp spirit. If you can’t take fire, _we can_. That’s all. Generous, passionate men--and you dare to carp at them. You. What have you to show?” And he went back to his chair like a great, sulky bear-god. Somers sat rather stupefied than convinced. But he found himself again _wanting_ to be convinced, wanting to be carried away. The desire hankered in his heart. Kangaroo had become again beautiful: huge and beautiful like some god that sways and seems clumsy, then suddenly flashes with all the agility of thunder and lightning. Huge and beautiful as he sat hulked in his chair. Somers _did_ wish he would get up again and carry him quite away. But where to? Where to? Where is one carried to when one is carried away? He had a bitter mistrust of seventh heavens and all heavens in general. But then the experience. If Kangaroo had got up at that moment Somers would have given him heart and soul and body, for the asking, and damn all consequences. He longed to do it. He knew that by just going over and laying a hand on the great figure of the sullen god he could achieve it. Kangaroo would leap like a thunder-cloud and catch him up--catch him up and away into a transport. A transport that should last for life. He knew it.