n I like."

"You mean you want to be rid of me," said Aaron.

"Yes, I do mean that," said Lilly.

"Ay," said Aaron.

And after a few minutes more staring at the score of _Pelleas_, he rose,
put the score away on the piano, laid his flute beside it, and retired
behind the screen. In silence, the strange dim noise of London sounding
from below, Lilly read on about the Kabyles. His soul had the faculty of
divesting itself of the moment, and seeking further, deeper interests.
These old Africans! And Atlantis! Strange, strange wisdom of the
Kabyles! Old, old dark Africa, and the world before the flood! How
jealous Aaron seemed! The child of a jealous God. A jealous God! Could
any race be anything but despicable, with such an antecedent?

But no, persistent as a jealous God himself, Aaron reappeared in his
pyjamas, and seated himself in his chair.

"What is the difference then between you and me, Lilly?" he said.

"Haven't we shaken hands on it--a difference of jobs."

"You don't believe that, though, do you?"

"Nay, now I reckon you're trespassing."

"Why am I? I know you don't believe it."

"What do I believe then?" said Lilly.

"You believe you know something better than me--and that you are
something better than me. Don't you?"

"Do YOU believe it?"

"What?"

"That I AM something better than you, and that I KNOW something better?"

"No, because I don't see it," said Aaron.

"Then if you don't see it, it isn't there. So go to bed and sleep the
sleep of the just and the convalescent. I am not to be badgered any
more."

"Am I badgering you?" said Aaron.

"Indeed you are."

"So I'm in the wrong again?"

"Once more, my dear."

"You're a God-Almighty in your way, you know."

"So long as I'm not in anybody else's way--Anyhow, you'd be much better
sleeping the sleep of the just. And I'm going out for a minute or two.
Don't catch cold there with nothing on--

"I want to catch the post," he added, rising.

Aaron looked up at him quickly. But almost before there was time to
speak, Lilly had slipped into his hat and coat, seized his letters, and
gone.

It was a rainy night. Lilly turned down King Street to walk to Charing
Cross. He liked being out of doors. He liked to post his letters at
Charing Cross post office. He did not want to talk to Aaron any more. He
was glad to be alone.

He walked quickly down Villiers Street to the river, to see it flowing
blackly towards the sea. It had an endless fa