“Not at all, not at all,” said Hood soothingly, “I’m sure it’s a most comfortable position.” The Professor blinked at him, but a light burned in the eyeballs under the heavy eyelids. “If you come here talking like that--” he began, when Hood cut off his speech by speaking across him to somebody else, with a cheerful rudeness that was like a kick in its contempt. “And what do you say, my dear doctor?” he observed, addressing Hunter. “You used to be almost as romantic as myself about the amenities of this place. Do you remember how much you admired the landlords for keeping the place quiet and select; and how you said the old families preserved the beauty of old England?” There was a silence, and then the young doctor spoke. “Well, it doesn’t follow a fellow can’t believe in progress. That’s what’s the matter with you, Hood; you don’t believe in progress. We must move with the times; and somebody always has to suffer. Besides, it doesn’t matter so much about river-water nowadays. It doesn’t even matter so much about the main water-supply. When the new Bill is passed, people will be obliged to use the Bulton Filter in any case.” “I see,” said Hood reflectively. “You first make a mess of the water for money, and then make a virtue of forcing people to clean it themselves.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Hunter angrily. “Well, I was thinking at the moment,” said Hood in his rather cryptic way. “I was thinking about Mr. Bulton. The man who owns the filters. I was wondering whether he might join us. We seem such a happy family party.” “I cannot see the use of prolonging this preposterous conversation,” said Sir Samuel. “Don’t call the poor Professor’s theory preposterous,” remonstrated Hood. “A little fanciful, perhaps. And as for the doctor’s view, surely there’s nothing preposterous in that. You don’t think the chemicals will poison all the fish I catch, do you, Doctor?” “No, of course not,” replied Hunter curtly. “They will adapt themselves by natural selection,” said Hood dreamily. “They will develop organs suitable to an oily environment--will learn to love petrol.” “Oh, I have no time for this nonsense,” said Hunter, and was turning to go, when Hood stepped in front of him and looked at him very steadily.