"That's colossal," said Parker, suddenly, striking the letter. "Never met any one he could love. He'll never better that." But Maitland went one better. He said he still hoped that some day, etc., etc., that he now saw with great self-condemnation that if his life had been altruistic in some ways, it had been egotistic in others, as in preferring his own independence to the mutual services of affection; that he must confess to his shame that he had received more than his share of love, and that he had not given out enough. "He's determined she shall know how irresistible he is," said Barrett. "I had no idea these early Victorian methods of self-advertisement were still in vogue even among the most elderly Dons." "Hang it all!" blurted out Parker, reddening. "The matter has gone beyond a joke. We haven't any right to see his mind without its clothes on. You always say the nude is beautiful. But really--Maitland undraped--viewed through a key-hole, sets my teeth on edge." "Undraped? you prude," said Barrett. "What are you talking about? Maitland is clothed up to his eyes in his own illusions. He's padded out all round with them back and front to such an extent that you can't see the least vestige of the human form divine. Personally, I don't think he has one. I don't believe he is a man at all, but just a globular mass of conceit and unpublished matter, swathed in a college gown. The thing that revolts me is the way he postures before her. Malvolio and his garters isn't in it with Maitland. Good Lord! Supposing she were a real live woman! What a mercy for him that it's only us, that it's all strictly _en famille_. I always have said that it's better to keep women out of love affairs." "How did you answer this?" said Parker, pushing the last letter from him in disgust. "I let him see at last--a little." "That it was all a joke?" "No. That I--that Maud, I mean--cared. She did not say much. She never does. She mostly sticks to flowers and sunsets, but she gave a little hint of it, and threw in at the same time that she was very much out of health and going abroad." "That'll put him off. He'll back out. He would hate to have a delicate wife. He might have to look after her, instead of her waiting hand and foot on him." "We shall see," said Barrett. "Her last letter was posted at Dover." "Well, mind! It's got to be the last," said Parker decisively. "I had not realised you had been playing the devil to such an extent as this. I had a sort of idea that you were only one of a committee. And what a frightful lot of trouble you must have taken. I suppose Maud was always moving about so that he could never nail her."