arcical conspiracy with perfect
nonchalance. Decayed races have their own philosophy."

"He takes it with a dignity of his own."

"I don't know what you call his dignity. I should call it lack of
self-respect."

"Why? Because he is quiet and courteous, and reserves his judgment. And
allow me to tell you, Martin, that you are not taking our troubles very
well."

"You can't expect from me all those foreign affectations. I am not in
the habit of compromising with my feelings."

Mrs. Travers turned completely round and faced her husband. "You sulk,"
she said. . . . Mr. Travers jerked his head back a little as if to let
the word go past.--"I am outraged," he declared. Mrs. Travers recognized
there something like real suffering.--"I assure you," she said,
seriously (for she was accessible to pity), "I assure you that this
strange Lingard has no idea of your importance. He doesn't know anything
of your social and political position and still less of your great
ambitions." Mr. Travers listened with some attention.--"Couldn't you
have enlightened him?" he asked.--"It would have been no use; his mind
is fixed upon his own position and upon his own sense of power. He is
a man of the lower classes. . . ."--"He is a brute," said Mr. Travers,
obstinately, and for a moment those two looked straight into each
other's eyes.--"Oh," said Mrs. Travers, slowly, "you are determined not
to compromise with your feelings!" An undertone of scorn crept into her
voice. "But shall I tell you what I think? I think," and she advanced
her head slightly toward the pale, unshaven face that confronted her
dark eyes, "I think that for all your blind scorn you judge the man
well enough to feel that you can indulge your indignation with perfect
safety. Do you hear? With perfect safety!" Directly she had spoken she
regretted these words. Really it was unreasonable to take Mr. Travers'
tricks of character more passionately on this spot of the Eastern
Archipelago full of obscure plots and warring motives than in the more
artificial atmosphere of the town. After all what she wanted was simply
to save his life, not to make him understand anything. Mr. Travers
opened his mouth and without uttering a word shut it again. His wife
turned toward the looking-glass nailed to the wall. She heard his voice
behind her.

"Edith, where's the truth in all this?"

She detected the anguish of a slow mind with an instinctive dread of
obscure places wherein new discover