oo. The
point is that my nurse won't let me have any, and I don't suppose
Titherington's wife will let him. That ass McMeekin insists on poisoning
me with barley water, and Titherington's doctor, whoever he is, is most
likely doing the same."

"I see," said Lalage. "This just bears out what I've been saying all
along about the utter want of common honesty in political life. Here are
you and Tithers actually quarrelling about which of you is to be allowed
to lie continuously. You are deliberately deceiving your doctor and
nurse. Tithers wants to deceive his wife, which is, if anything, a shade
worse. Hilda, find that bag."

"Lalage," I said, "you're not going to give it to Titherington, are you?
It wouldn't be good for him, it wouldn't really."

"Make your mind quite easy about that," said Lalage. "I'm not going to
give it to either of you. Hilda, look under the bed. That's just the
idiotic sort of place Tithers would hide a thing."

I heard Hilda grovelling about on the floor. A minute later she was
dragging the bag out.

"What are you going to do with it, Lalage?"

"Take it away and keep it myself till you're both well."

"We never shall be," I said. "We shall die. Please, Lalage, please
don't."

"It's the only honest course," said Lalage.

I made an effort to assert myself, though I knew it was useless.

"There is such a thing," I said, "as carrying honesty too far. All
extremes are wrong. There are lots of occasions on which it isn't at all
right to tell the literal truth."

"None," said Lalage.

"Suppose a robber was robbing you, and you had a five-pound note inside
your sock and suppose he said to you, 'Have you any more money?'"

"That has nothing to do with the way you and Tithers have conspired
together to deceive the very people who are trying to do you good."

"Lalage," I said, "I've subscribed liberally to the funds of the
society. I'll subscribe again. I did my best for you at the time of
the bishop row. I don't think you ought to turn on me now because I'm
adopting the only means in my power of resisting a frightful tyranny.
You might just as well call it dishonest of a prisoner to try to escape
because he doesn't tell the gaoler beforehand how he's going to do it."

"Hilda," said Lalage, "collar that bag and come on."

"Lalage," I said sternly, "if you take that bag I'll write straight to
the Archdeacon."

Hilda was already outside the door. Lalage turned.

"It will be much more unpl