s his
miserable secret under the cloak of a wholesome manly indifference. A
tattered cloak.... Each tries to hide his abandonment to this horrible
vice of continence--"

"Billy, what's the matter with you?"

Prothero grimaced impatience. "Shall I NEVER teach you not to be a
humbug, Benham?" he screamed, and in screaming became calmer. "Nature
taunts me, maddens me. My life is becoming a hell of shame. 'Get out
from all these books,' says Nature, 'and serve the Flesh.' The Flesh,
Benham. Yes--I insist--the Flesh. Do I look like a pure spirit? Is any
man a pure spirit? And here am I at Cambridge like a lark in a cage,
with too much port and no Aspasia. Not that I should have liked
Aspasia."

"Mutual, perhaps, Billy."

"Oh! you can sneer!"

"Well, clearly--Saint Paul is my authority--it's marriage, Billy."

Prothero had walked to the window. He turned round.

"I CAN'T marry," he said. "The trouble has gone too far. I've lost my
nerve in the presence of women. I don't like them any more. They come
at one--done up in a lot of ridiculous clothes, and chattering about
all sorts of things that don't matter...." He surveyed his friend's
thoughtful attitude. "I'm getting to hate women, Benham. I'm beginning
now to understand the bitterness of spinsters against men. I'm beginning
to grasp the unkindliness of priests. The perpetual denial. To you,
happily married, a woman is just a human being. You can talk to her,
like her, you can even admire her calmly; you've got, you see, no grudge
against her...."

He sat down abruptly.

Benham, upon the hearthrug before the empty fireplace, considered him.

"Billy! this is delusion," he said. "What's come over you?"

"I'm telling you," said Prothero.

"No," said Benham.

Prothero awaited some further utterance.

"I'm looking for the cause of it. It's feeding, Billy. It's port and
stimulants where there is no scope for action. It's idleness. I begin to
see now how much fatter you are, how much coarser."

"Idleness! Look at this pile of examination answers. Look at that filing
system like an arsenal of wisdom. Useless wisdom, I admit, but anyhow
not idleness."

"There's still bodily idleness. No. That's your trouble. You're stuffy.
You've enlarged your liver. You sit in this room of a warm morning after
an extravagant breakfast--. And peep and covet."

"Just eggs and bacon!"

"Think of it! Coffee and toast it ought to be. Come out of it, Billy,
and get aired."

"How