Then he weighed the Church Defence Society against the Society for the Liberation of Religion from State Patronage and Control, found neither wanting, but concluded that as a Socialist he ought to support the former, so wrote himself down an enemy of Disestablishment, remarking, “Father will be better pleased this time.” Then he dealt with the Sunday Society (for the opening of museums, etc., on that day) as incongruous with the Lord’s Day Observance Society; the Sunday Society had it. Turning to the arts, he supposed regretfully that some people would think it inconsistent to belong both to the League for the Encouragement and Better Appreciation of Post Impressionism, and to that for the Maintenance of the Principles of Classical Art; or to the Society for Encouraging the Realistic School of Modern Verse, and to the Poetry Society (which does not do this.) Then it struck him that the Factory Increase League clashed with the Coal Smoke Abatement Society, that the Back to the Land League was perhaps incompatible with the Society for the Preservation of Objects of Historic Interest in the Countryside; that one should not subscribe both to the National Arts Collections Fund, and to the Maintenance of Cordial Trans-Atlantic Relations; to the Charity Organisation Society, and to the Salvation Army Shelters Fund. Many other such discrepancies of thought and ideal he found in himself and corrected, either by choice or, more often (so equally good did both alternatives as a rule seem to him to be) by the hand of chance. It was not till after four o’clock on his wedding morning, when the midsummer-day sunrise was gilding the river and breaking into the room, that he stood up, cramped and stiff and weary, but a homogeneous and consistent whole, ready at last for bigotry to seal him for her own. He would yield himself unflinchingly to her hand; she should, in the course of the long years, stamp him utterly into shape. He looked ahead, as he leant out of the window and breathed in the clear morning air, and saw his future life outspreading. What a lot he would be able to accomplish, now that he was going to see one angle only of life and believe in it so exclusively that he would think it the whole. Already he felt the approaches of this desirable state. It would approach, he believed, rapidly, now that he was no longer to be distracted by divergent interests, torn by opposing claims on his sympathy. He saw himself a writer for the press (but he really must remember to write no more for the Conservative press, or the Liberal). He would hate Conservatism, detest Liberalism; he would believe that Socialists alone were actuated by their well-known sense of political equity and sound economics. In working, as he meant to do, in Datcherd’s settlement, he would be as fanatically political as Datcherd himself had been. Molly might slightly regret this, because of the different tenets of Nevill and the rest of