t being possessed. The trouble seems to be rather that
so many men shrink from the trouble and the strain and responsibility
that possession entails. Too much civilization, I suppose. We are afraid
of looking foolish, afraid of taking a chance. We sail away. And when we
read in the news of some intrepid soul who does take a chance, who
snatches a breathless woman off her feet and gallops thundering through
all our mean and cowardly conventions and finishes up perhaps with a
bullet in his brain, we shrug and mutter that he was a fool. We remain
safe and die in our beds, but we have to suffer in silence that bright,
critical, derisive smile which means 'Thou art afraid!'"

CHAPTER V

"Yes, afraid!" said Mr. Spenlove, suddenly, after another long pause, as
though one of the silent and recumbent forms under the awning had
contradicted him. "We have got so that no man dare do anything off his
own bat, as we say. We hunt in packs. It makes no difference whether the
individual man is a saint or a sinner.

"We pull him down. Our whole scheme of life has been designed to put a
premium on the tame and well-behaved, on the careful and steady
householder and his hygienic _menage_. We read with regret of disorder
in various parts of the world, and we despatch our legions from our own
immaculate shores to 'restore order.' Punitive expeditions we call them.
We have assumed the role of policeman in an ebullient world. Faith,
Love, Courage, are well enough if they declare a dividend and fill up
the necessary forms. We are dominated by the domestic. Women like Mrs.
Evans wield enormous power. It is not so much that they have character
as characteristics. They are the priestesses of the Temples of Home. I
used to watch that woman on the voyage to England. I was inspired by a
new and rabid curiosity. I wanted to see her in that aspect of security
which had moved the girl with such bitterness. Because Mrs. Evans hadn't
struck me as very safe when I had last seen her, sending out wireless
calls to me in her extremity. She had been sure I would give dear Jack
the best advice. That, in her private mind, was my mission on earth--to
minister to the needs of her and her angel child. But she was safe now.
She would greet me in what for her was almost a melting mood. I was the
confidant of the angel child's imaginary maladies. I was permitted to be
by while this precious being, sitting among blankets after her bath, was
fed with a highly