'How do you know that?' 'I cannot tell you how I know it, but I am sure of it. You exaggerated so much. You told tales of your own adventures, which I think you invented to amuse those present.' 'And you don't think it much harm to invent adventures for the amusement of a general company?' 'Certainly riot. They do no harm to anyone; they do not deceive anyone.' 'Oh, I see. It is by the result you judge.' 'I don't understand you.' 'You think there is no harm in inventing tales so long as they do not hurt anyone and do not deceive anyone?' 'Yes. They are then no more than novels or poems.' 'Ah well, I don't agree with you there; but we will not discuss that. I want to ask you another question. Suppose a person had invented something with the sole view of paining and deceiving another, what would you think of the act and the man?' 'I should think it most unkind, ungentlemanly, most vile, and I should be sorry to know the man.' 'Ah,' he sighed, 'you see my second condition is worse than my former one.' 'What do you mean?' 'A little while ago I said you considered me a fool. Now you must think me a scoundrel.' 'Mr Nevill, you should not say such things! I think nothing of the kind of you.' 'You must.' 'Indeed, no.' 'But I tell you, you must; you cannot help it.' 'It is too bad of you to say such dreadful things. You are very hard on me, and I am not aware I have done anything to deserve it. I am sure I never thought you a fool; and as to the other thing, it is too dreadful even to think of.' 'Yet,' said he dismally, 'whatever reason you may have for not thinking me a fool, there isn't the shadow of a chance of your thinking me anything but a scoundrel.' She said, with a slight show of displeasure in her manner,--'I think there is no use in our trying to agree about this matter. I am exceedingly sorry if I have caused you pain. I never intended it; and I apologise most fully. Will you accept my apology, and let us change the subject? It distresses me.' She evidently felt uncomfortable. There was a faint flush on her cheek, and a dim dissatisfaction in her eyes. 'We cannot change the subject,' he said relentlessly, 'until we have decided whether you or I happen to be wrong.' 'I would rather admit I have been wrong than continue the topic. I assure you it gives me great pain.' 'I will be brief. When I said I knew you thought me a great fool, I did not believe what I said; I intended you should think I did believe it, and I said the words in order to give you pain.' She raised her eyes to his, and looked at him in silent wonder. 'Do you believe me now?' he asked. 'I do not know. You surprise me very much. Why should you try to pain me?' she asked, looking at him in perplexity. 'Because I wanted to try an experiment.' 'An experiment! What experiment? You are a strange man.' To the former look of perplexity had by this time been added a look of fear.