“Well, I intend to write,” said Avery. “In fact, I don’t mind telling you I intend to start a paper as soon as I can.” Michael laughed. “And you’ll contribute,” Avery went on eagerly. “How much?” “I’m talking about articles. I shall call my paper—well, I haven’t thought about the title—but I shall get a good one. It won’t be like the papers of the nineties. It will be more serious. It will deal with art, of course, and literature, and politics, but it won’t be decadent. It will try to reflect contemporary undergraduate thought. I think it might be called The Oxford Looking-Glass.” “Yes, I expect it will be a looking-glass production,” said Michael. “I should call it The World Turned Upside Down.” “I’m perfectly serious about this paper,” said Avery reproachfully. “And I’m taking you very seriously,” said Michael. “That’s why I won’t write a line. Are you going to have illustrations?” “We might have one drawing. I’m not quite sure how much it costs to reproduce a drawing. But it would be fun to publish some rather advanced stuff.” “Well, as long as you don’t publish drawings that look as if the compositor had suddenly got angry with the page and thrown asterisks at it, and as long as——” “Oh, shut up,” interrupted the dreaming editor, “and don’t fall into that tiresome undergraduate cynicism. It’s so young.” “But I am young,” Michael pointed out with careful gravity. “So are you. And, Maurice, really you know for me my own ambitions are best. I’ve got a great sense of responsibility, and if I were to start going through life trying to do things, I should worry myself all the time. The only chance for me is to find a sort of negative attitude to life like Prescott. You’ll do lots of things. I think you’re capable of them. But I’d rather watch. At least in my present mood I would. I’d give anything to feel I was a leader of men or whatever it is you are. But I’m not. I’ve got a sister whom you ought to meet. She’s got all the positive energy in our family. I can’t explain, Maurice, just exactly what I’m feeling about existence at this moment, unless I tell you more about myself than I possibly can—anyway yet a while. I don’t want to do any harm, and I don’t think I could ever feel I was in a position to do any good. Look here, don’t let’s talk any more. I meant to dream myself into an attitude to-night, and you’ve made me talk like an earnest young convert.” “I think I’ll go round and consult Wedderburn about this paper,” said Avery excitedly. “He thinks you’re patronizing,” Michael warned him. Avery pulled up, suddenly hurt: “Does he? I wonder why.” “But he won’t, if you ask his advice about reproducing advanced drawings.” “Doesn’t he like me?” persisted Avery. “I’d better not go round to his rooms.” “Don’t be foolish, Maurice. Your sensitiveness is really all spoiled vanity.”