"It is my old Bible of manhood," she continued with rich soberness, " part worthless, part divine. Not Greek manhood--nor Roman manhood: they were too pagan. Not Semitic manhood: that--in its ideal at least--was not pagan enough. But something better than any of these--something that is everything." The subject struck inward to the very heart's root of his private life. He listened as with breath arrested. "We know what the Greeks were before everything else," she said resolutely: " hey were physical men: we think less of them spiritually in any sense of the idea that is valued by us and of course we do not think of them at all as gentlemen: that involves of course the highest courtesy to women. The Jews were of all things spiritual in the type of their striving. Their ancient system, and the system of the New Testament itself as it was soon taught and passed down to us, struck a deadly blow at the development of the body for its own sake--at physical beauty: and the highest development of the body is what the race can never do without. It struck another blow at the development of taste--at the luxury and grace of the intellect: which also the race can never do without. But in this old book you will find the starting-point of a new conception of ideal human life. It grew partly out of the pagan; it grew partly out of the Christian; it added from its own age something of its own. Nearly every nation of Europe has lived on it ever since--as its ideal. The whole world is being nourished by that ideal more and more. It is the only conception of itself that the race can never fall away from without harm, because it is the ideal of its own perfection. You know what I mean?" she asked a little imperiously as though she were talking to a green boy. "What do you mean?" he asked wonderingly. She had never spoken to him in this way. Her mood, the passionate, beautiful, embarrassed stress behind all this, was a bewildering revelation. "I mean," she said, "that first of all things in this world a man must be a man--with all the grace and vigour and, if possible, all the beauty of the body. Then he must be a gentleman--with all the grace, the vigour, the good taste of the mind. And then with both of these--no matter what his creed, his dogmas, his superstitions, his religion--with both of these he must try to live a beautiful life of the spirit." He looked at her eagerly, gratefully. "You will find him all these," she resumed, dropping her eyes before his gratitude which was much too personal. "You wil1 find all these in this book: here are men who were men; here are men who were gentlemen; and here are gentlemen who served the unfallen life of the spirit." She kept her eyes on the book. Her voice had become very grave and reverent. She had grown more embarrassed, but at last she went on as though resolved to finish: