adually realise one's God. Now
life interested him more.

"You know," he said to his mother, "I don't want to belong to the
well-to-do middle class. I like my common people best. I belong to the
common people."

"But if anyone else said so, my son, wouldn't you be in a tear. YOU know
you consider yourself equal to any gentleman."

"In myself," he answered, "not in my class or my education or my
manners. But in myself I am."

"Very well, then. Then why talk about the common people?"

"Because--the difference between people isn't in their class, but in
themselves. Only from the middle classes one gets ideas, and from the
common people--life itself, warmth. You feel their hates and loves."

"It's all very well, my boy. But, then, why don't you go and talk to
your father's pals?"

"But they're rather different."

"Not at all. They're the common people. After all, whom do you mix with
now--among the common people? Those that exchange ideas, like the middle
classes. The rest don't interest you."

"But--there's the life--"

"I don't believe there's a jot more life from Miriam than you could get
from any educated girl--say Miss Moreton. It is YOU who are snobbish
about class."

She frankly WANTED him to climb into the middle classes, a thing not
very difficult, she knew. And she wanted him in the end to marry a lady.

Now she began to combat him in his restless fretting. He still kept up
his connection with Miriam, could neither break free nor go the whole
length of engagement. And this indecision seemed to bleed him of his
energy. Moreover, his mother suspected him of an unrecognised leaning
towards Clara, and, since the latter was a married woman, she wished he
would fall in love with one of the girls in a better station of life.
But he was stupid, and would refuse to love or even to admire a girl
much, just because she was his social superior.

"My boy," said his mother to him, "all your cleverness, your breaking
away from old things, and taking life in your own hands, doesn't seem to
bring you much happiness."

"What is happiness!" he cried. "It's nothing to me! How AM I to be
happy?"

The plump question disturbed her.

"That's for you to judge, my lad. But if you could meet some GOOD
woman who would MAKE you happy--and you began to think of settling your
life--when you have the means--so that you could work without all this
fretting--it would be much better for you."

He frowned. His mother caught hi