"You can't expect all men to be blocks of ice, or milksops," said Tom, who was getting nettled. "Don't think that I meant you," said Hardy; "indeed I didn't. But surely, think a moment; is it a proof of manliness that the pure and weak should fear you and shrink from you? Which is the true--aye, and the brave--man, he who trembles before a woman or he before whom a woman trembles?" "Neither," said Tom; "but I see what you mean, and when you put it that way it's clear enough." "But you're wrong in saying 'neither' if you do see what I mean." Tom was silent. "Can there be any true manliness without purity?" went on Hardy. Tom drew a deep breath but said nothing. "And where then can you point to a place where there is so little manliness as here? It makes my blood boil to see what one must see every day. There are a set of men up here, and have been ever since I can remember the place, not one of whom can look at a modest woman without making her shudder." "There must always be some blackguards," said Tom. "Yes; but unluckily the blackguards set the fashion, and give the tone to public opinion. I'm sure both of us have seen enough to know perfectly well that up here, amongst us undergraduates, men who are deliberately and avowedly profligates, are rather admired and courted,--are said to know the world, and all that,--while a man who tries to lead a pure life, and makes no secret of it, is openly sneered at by them, looked down on more or less by the great mass of men, and, to use the word you used just now, thought a milksop by almost all." "I don't think it so bad as that," said Tom. "There are many men who would respect him, though they might not be able to follow him." "Of course, I never meant that there are not many such, but they don't set the fashion. I am sure I'm right. Let us try it by the best test. Haven't you and I in our secret hearts this cursed feeling, that the sort of man we are talking about is a milksop?" After a moment's thought, Tom answered, "I am afraid I have, but I really am thoroughly ashamed of it now, Hardy. But you haven't it. If you had it you could never have spoken to me as you have." "I beg your pardon. No man is more open than I to the bad influences of any place he lives in. God knows I am even as other men, and worse; for I have been taught ever since I could speak, that the crown of all real manliness, of all Christian manliness, is purity." Neither of the two spoke for some minutes. Then Hardy looked at his watch-- "Past eleven," he said; "I must do some work. Well, Brown, this will be a day to be remembered in my calendar." Tom wrung his hand, but did not venture to reply. As he got to the door, however, he turned back, and said,-- "Do you think I ought to write to her?" "Well, you can try. You'll find it a bitter business, I fear." "I'll try then. Good night."