“Which is right,” he mused, “that girl or Sam? The girl, of course. But am I any better, _au fond_, than Storth, the epicurean little beast? Is there any difference between us, except that he is honest with himself? I spend my leisure in political agitation, and rather plume myself on being a Town Councillor and Vice-President of the Liberal Two Hundred at twenty-four, and would rather any day wag my tongue on a public platform for nothing than earn a couple of guineas by exercising the same useful member in the County Court or Police Court. But do I really care for the political reforms for which I agitate, and am I really indignant at the wrongs about which I wax eloquent? How much of my wrath against the House of Lords, I wonder, arises from the fact that I am not myself the ‘tenth transmitter of a foolish face?’ When I thunder against the iniquity of a restricted franchise, is it not, perhaps, mainly because it tickles my ears to hear the answering plaudits of the great unfranchised? Sam Storth likes soft living, and says so, and in that he is honest. I like _monstrari digito et diceri hic Niger est_. But I call my liking public spirit, intelligent Liberalism, and look to be, and indeed am, patted on the back for it by others and myself. His liking I call sensuality and scorn. But aren’t his ways and my ways equally a self-gratification in different forms? Now, that girl does really seem to care for people. I’ll be bound she feels like a sister to the poor wretches of the slums. There’s a screw loose with you somewhere, Edward, my boy. What’s the matter with you? That girl’s got religion. She believes in Christ. Curious; but I’ll bet she does. What a facility women have for accepting myths for facts. The clear, cold light of science is a grand thing, but I sometimes feel inclined to say, ‘Hang the clear, cold light of science.’ Heigho! the ‘Nineteenth’s’ deadly dull, and the ‘Contemporary’ attain a deeper depth of Bœotian opacity. I wonder if I can cut in at a rubber.” And Beaumont threw his magazine aside and ascended to the higher regions of the Club, where two or three rooms were set aside for the devotees of whist, nap and poker.