Buried in the depth of a great arm-chair lay the form of a giant of a man who had listened to the conversation with a sleepy smile. At this point a yawn overcame him; he struggled with it, only to find himself entangled in a second. "I say," he drawled lazily, "what about bed? Doesn't that strike you as about the most sensible proposition for the moment? I know this dissatisfied feeling. No New Year's gathering is complete without it. Best thing to get to sleep as soon as possible, and start afresh next day. Things look better after coffee and bacon. What's the use of grizzling? If we can't have what we want, let us like what we can get. Eh? It's pretty certain we'll never get what we want." "Are you so sure of that?" asked a quiet voice. The hostess sat erect in her seat, her graceful head with its silvering hair silhouetted against the wall. She looked round the circle of her guests, and smiled, a fine, delicate smile. "When you make that statement, Frank, you are contradicting flatly all the premises of modern thought. The time has passed for sitting still and lamenting the impossible. The time is past for calling anything impossible. The thing that a man strives for--deeply, strongly, persistently--_that thing he can hovel_ That is the theory held by many great thinkers of to-day. And it is _true_." There was silence for a moment, while everyone looked questioningly at the figure of the speaker. The man with the tired eyes asked a question: "I suppose that applies to women as well as to men! Have _you_ proved it, Mrs Ingram?" "I have proved it," answered the quiet voice. The host leaned forward, and knocked the ash of his cigarette into the grate. His face was hidden from view. Mrs Ingram looked round with a sudden, challenging smile. "_Why don't you all prove it_?" she cried. "Why don't you all start forth on this year with an aim in view? I don't say you will gain it in one year, or in two, or possibly in a dozen; but if you care enough to go on trying, it _will_ be gained! It's a question of one big aim instead of a dozen. The lesser things must go; you must become a man, a woman, of one idea. There are other things which are good and pleasant and alluring, but they must be set aside as weights which would hamper the chase. You cannot have the one big thing--and everything else! Therefore it is well to ask oneself seriously at the beginning--_Is it worth while_?" Once more the guests were silent, staring into the heart of the fire. That last question, uttered in a deep, grave tone, had called to the bar those inner voices which had so long breathed envy and discontent. Each listener examined his own motives, and knew a chill of doubt, but the chill passed, and the conviction remained. Each one felt convinced that life held no good outside the coveted goal. The silence gave assent, as Mrs Ingram realised without need of further words.