“Well, now,” Eddy reasoned with him, “what’s the matter with Traherne, for instance? Of course, I see that the vicar’s too much the practical man of the world for you, and Peters too much the downright sportsman, and Hillier too much the pious ass (though I like him, you know). But Traherne’s clever and all alive, and not in the least reputable. What’s the matter with him, then?” Arnold grunted. “Don’t know. Must be something, or he wouldn’t be filling his present position in life. Probably he labours under the delusion that life is real, life is earnest. Socialists often do.... Look here, come and see Jane one day, will you? She’d be a change for you.” “What’s Jane like?” “I don’t know.... Not like anyone here, anyhow. She draws in pen and ink, and lives in a room in a little court out of Blackfriars Road, with a little fat fair girl called Sally. Sally Peters; she’s a cousin of young James here, I believe. Rather like him, too, only rounder and jollier, with bluer eyes and yellower hair. Much more of a person, I imagine; more awake to things in general, and not a bit _rangée_, though quite crude. But the same sort of cheery exuberance; personally, I couldn’t live with either; but Jane manages it quite serenely. Sally isn’t free of the good-works taint herself, though we hope she is outgrowing it.” “Oh, I’ve met her. She comes and helps Jimmy with the children’s clubs sometimes.” “I expect she does. But, as I say, we’re educating her. She’s young yet.... Jane is good for her. So are Miss Hogan, and the two Le Moines, and I. We should also be good for _you_, if you could spare us some of your valuable time between two Sunday school classes. Good night. I’m going home now, because it makes me rather sad to be here.” He went home. The clergy of St. Gregory’s thought him (respectively) an ill-mannered and irritating young man, probably clever enough to learn better some day; an infidel, very likely too proud ever to learn better at all, this side the grave; a dilettante slacker, for whom the world hadn’t much use; and a conceited crank, for whom James Peters had no use at all. But they didn’t like to tell Eddy so. James Peters, a transparent youth, threw only a thin veil over his opinions, however, when he talked to Eddy about his cousin Sally. He was, apparently, anxious about Sally. Eddy had met her at children’s clubs, and thought her a cheery young person, and admired the amber gold of her hair, and her cornflower-blue eyes, and her power of always thinking of a fresh game at the right moment.