n a millionth part of it.'

'I am quite reconciled to that. An infinite picture gallery isn't my
idea of enjoyment.'

'Nor mine. But an infinite series of modes of living. A ceaseless
exercise of all one's faculties of pleasure. That sounds shameless to
you? I can't understand why it should. Why is the man who toils more
meritorious than he who enjoys? What is the sanction for this judgment?'

'Social usefulness, Everard.'

'I admit the demand for social usefulness, up to a certain point. But,
really, I have done my share. The mass of men don't toil with any such
ideal, but merely to keep themselves alive, or to get wealth. I think
there is a vast amount of unnecessary labour.'

'There is an old proverb about Satan and idle hands. Pardon me; you
alluded to that personage in your letter.'

'The proverb is a very true one, but, like other proverbs, it applies
to the multitude. If I get into mischief, it will not be because I
don't perspire for so many hours every day, but simply because it is
human to err. I have no intention whatever of getting into mischief.'

The speaker stroked his beard, and smiled with a distant look.

'Your purpose is intensely selfish, and all indulged selfishness reacts
on the character,' replied Miss Barfoot, still in a tone of the
friendliest criticism.

'My dear cousin, for anything to be selfish, it must be a deliberate
refusal of what one believes to be duty. I don't admit that I am
neglecting any duty to others, and the duty to myself seems very clear
indeed.'

'Of _that_ I have no doubt,' exclaimed the other, laughing. 'I see that
you have refined your arguments.'

'Not my arguments only, I hope,' said Everard modestly. 'My time has
been very ill spent if I haven't in some degree, refined my nature.'

'That sounds very well, Everard. But when it comes to degrees of
self-indulgence--'

She paused and made a gesture of dissatisfaction.

'It comes to that, surely, with every man. But we certainly shall not
agree on this subject. You stand at the social point of view; I am an
individualist. You have the advantage of a tolerably consistent theory;
whilst I have no theory at all, and am full of contradictions. The only
thing clear to me is that I have a right to make the most of my life.'

'No matter at whose expense?'

'You are quite mistaken. My conscience is a tender one. I dread to do
any one an injury. That has always been true of me, in spite of your
sceptical look; and