“_Is_ it a mess?” asked Eddy. “I’m sorry if so. It hasn’t struck me in that light all this time.” “Don’t think me ungrateful, Oliver,” said Datcherd, quickly. “I’m not. Looking at things as you do, I suppose it was natural that you should have done as you have. Perhaps you might have let me a little more into your views beforehand than you did--but never mind that now. The fact that matters is that I find the Club in a state of mental confusion that I never expected, and it will take some time to settle it again, if we ever do. We want, as you know, to make the Club the nucleus of a sound Radical constituency. Well, upon my word, if there was an election now, I couldn’t say which way some of them would vote. You may answer that it doesn’t matter, as so few are voters yet; but it does. It’s what I call a mess; and a silly mess, too. They’ve been playing the fool with things they ought to be keen enough about to take in deadly earnest. That’s your doing. You seem to have become pretty popular, I must say; which is just the mischief of it. All I can do now is to try and straighten things out by degrees.” “You’d rather I didn’t come and help any more, I suppose,” said Eddy. “To be quite frank, I would. In fact, I wouldn’t have you at any price. You don’t mind my speaking plainly? The mistake’s been mine; but it _has_ been a pretty idiotic mistake, and we mustn’t have any more of it.... I ought never to have gone away. I shan’t again, whatever any fools of doctors say.” Eddy held out his hand. “Goodbye. I’m really very sorry, Datcherd. I suppose I ought to have guessed what you would feel about all this.” “Honestly, I think you ought. But thank you very much, all the same, for all the trouble you’ve taken.... You’re doing some reviewing work now, aren’t you?” His tone implied that Eddy had better go on doing reviewing work, and desist from doing anything else. Eddy left the house. He was sorry, and rather angry, and badly disappointed. He had been keen on the Club; he had hoped to go on helping with it. It seemed that he was not considered fit by anyone to have anything to do with clubs and such philanthropic enterprises. First the Vicar of St. Gregory’s had turned him out because he had too many interests besides (Datcherd being one), and now Datcherd turned him out because he had tried to give the Club too many interests (the cause the vicar stood for being one). Nowhere did he seem to be wanted. He was a failure and an outcast. Besides which, Datcherd thought he had behaved dishonourably. Perhaps he had. Here he saw Datcherd’s point of view. Even his friend the Ulsterman had obviously had the same thought about that. Eddy ruefully admitted that he had been an idiot not to know just how Datcherd would feel. But he was angry with Datcherd for feeling like that. Datcherd was narrow, opinionated, and unfair. So many people are, in an unfair world.