stomach has shrunk," he added simply. "To see things one must suffer.
'Voyager, c'est plus fort que moi'!"

Shelton failed to perceive that this was one way of disguising the
human animal's natural dislike of work--there was a touch of pathos, a
suggestion of God-knows-what-might-have-been, about this fellow.

"I have eaten my illusions," said the young foreigner, smoking a
cigarette. "When you've starved a few times, your eyes are opened.
'Savoir, c'est mon metier; mais remarquez ceci, monsieur': It 's not
always the intellectuals who succeed."

"When you get a job," said Shelton, "you throw it away, I suppose."

"You accuse me of restlessness? Shall I explain what I think about that?
I'm restless because of ambition; I want to reconquer an independent
position. I put all my soul into my trials, but as soon as I see there's
no future for me in that line, I give it up and go elsewhere. 'Je ne
veux pas etre rond de cuir,' breaking my back to economise sixpence a
day, and save enough after forty years to drag out the remains of
an exhausted existence. That's not in my character." This ingenious
paraphrase of the words "I soon get tired of things" he pronounced with
an air of letting Shelton into a precious secret.

"Yes; it must be hard," agreed the latter.

Ferrand shrugged his shoulders.

"It's not all butter," he replied; "one is obliged to do things that are
not too delicate. There's nothing I pride myself on but frankness."

Like a good chemist, however, he administered what Shelton could stand
in a judicious way. "Yes, yes," he seemed to say, "you'd like me
to think that you have a perfect knowledge of life: no morality, no
prejudices, no illusions; you'd like me to think that you feel yourself
on an equality with me, one human animal talking to another, without any
barriers of position, money, clothes, or the rest--'ca c'est un peu trop
fort'! You're as good an imitation as I 've come across in your class,
notwithstanding your unfortunate education, and I 'm grateful to you,
but to tell you everything, as it passes through my mind would damage my
prospects. You can hardly expect that."

In one of Shelton's old frock-coats he was impressive, with his air
of natural, almost sensitive refinement. The room looked as if it were
accustomed to him, and more amazing still was the sense of familiarity
that he inspired, as, though he were a part of Shelton's soul. It came
as a shock to realise that this young fore