“Just what would be important by law!” commented Lynborough. “And I have made use of the fact in my letter to the Marchesa. But in my own mind I stand on reason and natural right. Is it reasonable that I, living half-a-mile from my bathing, should have to walk two miles to get to it? Plainly not. Isn’t it the natural right of the owner of Scarsmoor to have that path open through Nab Grange? Plainly yes. That, Roger, although, as I say, not the shape in which I have put the matter before the Marchesa--because she, being a woman, would be unappreciative of pure reason--is really the way in which the question presents itself to my mind--and, I’m sure, to Cromlech’s?” “Not the least in the world to mine,” said Stabb. “However, Ambrose, the young man thinks us both mad.” “You do, Roger?” His smile persuaded to an affirmative reply. “I’m afraid so, Lord Lynborough.” “No ‘Lord’, if you love me! Why do you think me mad? Cromlech, of course, is mad, so we needn’t bother about him.” “You’re not--not practical,” stammered Roger. “Oh, I don’t know, really I don’t know. You’ll see that I shall get that path open. And in the end I did get that public-house closed. And Juanita’s husband had to leave the country, owing to the heat of local feeling--aroused entirely by me. Juanita stayed behind and, after due formalities, married again most happily. I’m not altogether inclined to call myself unpractical. Roger!” He turned quickly to his secretary. “Your father’s what they call a High Churchman, isn’t he?” “Yes--and so am I,” said Roger. “He has his Church. He puts that above the State, doesn’t he? He wouldn’t obey the State against the Church? He wouldn’t do what the Church said was wrong because the State said it was right?” “How could he? Of course he wouldn’t,” answered Roger. “Well, I have my Church--inside here.” He touched his breast. “I stand where your father does. Why am I more mad than the Archdeacon, Roger?” “But there’s all the difference!” “Of course there is,” said Stabb. “All the difference that there is between being able to do it and not being able to do it--and I know of none so profound.” “There’s no difference at all,” declared Lynborough. “Therefore--as a good son, no less than as a good friend--you will come and bathe with me to-morrow?” “Oh, I’ll come and bathe, by all means, Lynborough.” “By all means! Well said, young man. By all means, that is, which are becoming in opposing a lady. What precisely those may be we will consider when we see the strength of her opposition.” “That doesn’t sound so very unpractical, after all,” Stabb suggested to Roger. Lynborough took his stand before Stabb, hands in pockets, smiling down at the bulk of his friend.