you, and not to be betrayed into a warm expression or a hasty
word.'

'There again,' said Mr Haredale, 'you have me at a great advantage. Your
self-command--'

'Is not to be disturbed, when it will serve my purpose, you would
say'--rejoined the other, interrupting him with the same complacency.
'Granted. I allow it. And I have a purpose to serve now. So have you. I
am sure our object is the same. Let us attain it like sensible men, who
have ceased to be boys some time.--Do you drink?'

'With my friends,' returned the other.

'At least,' said Mr Chester, 'you will be seated?'

'I will stand,' returned Mr Haredale impatiently, 'on this dismantled,
beggared hearth, and not pollute it, fallen as it is, with mockeries. Go
on.'

'You are wrong, Haredale,' said the other, crossing his legs, and
smiling as he held his glass up in the bright glow of the fire. 'You are
really very wrong. The world is a lively place enough, in which we must
accommodate ourselves to circumstances, sail with the stream as glibly
as we can, be content to take froth for substance, the surface for the
depth, the counterfeit for the real coin. I wonder no philosopher has
ever established that our globe itself is hollow. It should be, if
Nature is consistent in her works.'

'YOU think it is, perhaps?'

'I should say,' he returned, sipping his wine, 'there could be no doubt
about it. Well; we, in trifling with this jingling toy, have had
the ill-luck to jostle and fall out. We are not what the world calls
friends; but we are as good and true and loving friends for all that, as
nine out of every ten of those on whom it bestows the title. You have a
niece, and I a son--a fine lad, Haredale, but foolish. They fall in
love with each other, and form what this same world calls an attachment;
meaning a something fanciful and false like the rest, which, if it took
its own free time, would break like any other bubble. But it may not
have its own free time--will not, if they are left alone--and the
question is, shall we two, because society calls us enemies, stand
aloof, and let them rush into each other's arms, when, by approaching
each other sensibly, as we do now, we can prevent it, and part them?'

'I love my niece,' said Mr Haredale, after a short silence. 'It may
sound strangely in your ears; but I love her.'

'Strangely, my good fellow!' cried Mr Chester, lazily filling his glass
again, and pulling out his toothpick. 'Not at all. I like Ned too-