"You see, my love," said Kingsley, in his brightest manner, and Nansie's heart beat gratefully at his cheerful tone, "when a truth comes home to a man he can, at all events, learn something from it, unless he be a worthless fellow. When he sees an example before him he can profit by it, if his mind be set upon it. He lays it before him, he dissects it, he studies it, and he says, 'Ah, I see how it is.' That is what I shall do. Your father and I, in this matter of application and industry, somewhat resemble each other. A kind of innate indolence in both of us. Well, what I've got to do is to tackle it. Within me is an enemy, a bad influence, which I must take in hand. 'Come,' I say to this insidious spirit, 'let us see who will get the best of it.' Thereupon we fall to. The right thing to do, Nansie?" "Yes," she replied, "but you must not reproach yourself, my dear." "Oh, I am not doing so," he said, quickly, before she could proceed. "I am applying to the discovery I have made the touchstone of philosophy. There is no doubt of the result, not the slightest. But I don't think it is anything to lament that I seem to find a resemblance in your father's character and mine." "It is something to be deeply grateful for, my dear." "And the discovery is made in time. After all, I am a young man, and, as I told you, I intend to commence with a new slate. Really, I intend to try my very best." "And you will succeed, Kingsley," said Nansie, earnestly. "You are sure to succeed." "Now that's comforting. It gives a fellow strength. With you always by my side, it will be very hard if I fail. But," and here he took off his hat and passed his fingers through his hair with the characteristic of vagueness in him which sometimes took a humorous and sometimes a pitiful turn, but always perplexed--"succeed or fail in what? That is the all-important question. There is no quarry in sight; it will never do to follow a Will-o'-the-wisp. So much valuable time lost. The very best thing, I take it, for a fellow in my position to do, is to find out his groove and fall into it. Do you consider that a practical idea?" "Quite practical, my love." "Yes, to find out the groove and fall into it. Could anything be done with tools?" His voice was wholly humorous now, and for the life of her Nansie could not help smiling. "And what tools?" He looked at his hands, and stretched out his arms. "Well, all that is in the future. I was going to remark on an observation you made a little while ago. Oh, I remember what it is. 'Change produces beauty.' Now that struck me as serious. How about love?" "I did not mean that, Kingsley, dear. Love stands apart from everything else. The sweetness and beauty of love is to be found only in perfection when it is constant and unchangeful. To me it is the same as my faith in immortality. My love for you will abide in me forever. Ah, Kingsley, do not misunderstand me, or misinterpret what I said!"