her family; but she was too sensible really to mind. He saw her and himself living their happy, and, he hoped, not useless life, in the little house they had taken in Elm Park Road, Chelsea (they had not succeeded in ousting the inhabitants of the Osiers). He would be writing for some paper, and working every evening in the Lea Bridge Settlement, and Molly would help him there with the girls’ clubs; she was keen on that sort of thing, and did it well. They would have many friends; the Bellairs’ relations and connections were numerous, and often military or naval; and there would be Nevill and his friends, so hard-working, so useful, so tidy, so well-bred; and their own friends, the friends they made, the friends they had had before.... It was at this point that the picture grew a little less vivid and clearly-outlined, and had to be painted in with great decision. Of course they came into the picture, Jane and Billy and the rest, and perhaps sometime, when she and Molly had both changed their minds about it, Eileen; of course they would all be there, coming in and out and mixing up amicably with the Bellairs contingent, and pleasing and being pleased by Nevill and his well-behaved friends, and liking to talk to Molly and she to them. Why not? Eileen had surely been wrong about that; his friendships weren’t, couldn’t be, part of the price he had to pay for his marriage, or even for his bigotry. With a determined hand he painted them into the picture, and produced a surprising, crowded jumble of visitors in the little house--artists, colonels, journalists, civil servants, poets, members of Parliament, settlement workers, actors, and clergymen.... He must remember, of course, that he disliked Conservatism, Atheism, and Individualism; but that, he thought, need be no barrier between him and the holders of these unfortunate views. And any surprisingness, any lack of realism, in the picture he had painted, he was firmly blind to. So Molly and he would live and work together; work for the right things, war against the wrong. He had learnt how to set about working now; learnt to use the weapons ready to hand, the only weapons provided by the world for its battles. Using them, he would get accustomed to them; gradually he would become the Complete Bigot, as to the manner born, such a power has doing to react on the vision of those who do. Then and only then, when, for him, many-faced Truth had resolved itself into one, when he should see but little here below but see that little clear, when he could say from the heart, “I believe Tariff Reformers, Unionists, Liberals, Individualists, Roman Catholics, Protestants, Dissenters, Vegetarians, and all others with whom I disagree, to be absolutely in the wrong; I believe that I and those who think like me possess not merely truth but _the_ truth”--then, and only then would he be able to set to work and get something done.... Who should say it was not worth the price?