He had drunk a good deal of wine, and the little beads
of perspiration stood out upon his forehead.

"Maraton," he said, "you need me. You are like the others. When the
fire has touched their eyes and indeed they see the things that are,
they fall on their knees and they tear away at the weeds and rubbish
that cumber the earth, and they never lift their eyes, and soon their
frame grows weary and their heart cold. Be wise, man. The mark is upon
you. Those live best and work best in this world who have a soul for
its beauties. Women, for instance," he went on, smoking furiously.
"What help do you make of women? None! You sit at one end of the
table, your secretary at the other. You don't look at her. She might
have pig's eyes, for anything you know about it. Idiot! And she--not
quite as bad, perhaps. Women feel a little, you know, that they don't
show. Why not marry, Maraton? No? Perhaps you are right. And yet
women are wonderful. You can't do your greatest work, Maraton, you
never will reach your greatest work, unless a woman's hand is yours."

They rode back to London in comparative silence. Selingman frankly and
openly slept, with his grey hat on the back of his head, his untidy feet
upon the opposite cushions, his mouth wide open. Maraton more than once
found himself watching Julia covertly. There was no doubt that in her
strange, quiet way she was beautiful. As he sat and looked at her, his
thoughts travelled back to the little garden, the sheltered corner under
the trees, the curious sense of relaxation which in that short hour
Selingman had inspired. Was the man indeed right, his philosophy sound?
Was there indeed wisdom in the loosening of the bonds? He met her eyes
suddenly, and she smiled at him. With her--well, he scarcely dared to
tell himself that he knew how it was. He closed his eyes again. A
thought had come to him sweeter than any yet.

As they neared London, Selingman awoke, smiled blandly upon them,
brushed the cigar ash from his coat and waistcoat, put on his hat and
looked about him with interest.

"So we are arrived," he said presently. "The Houses of Parliament, eh?
I enter with you, Maraton. You find me a corner where I sleep while the
others speak, and wake at the sound of your voice. Afterwards, late
to-night, we shall go to Maxendorf."

CHAPTER XXIX

It happened to be a quiet evening in the House, and Maraton and
Selingman dined together at a little before eight o'clock. Selingman's