a mere contemplation of your riotous living."

He walked away with his mincing step. "There's a character," said
Henry, looking after him. "He is positively restful."

"Until he wants a drink," Mortimer replied, "and then he is restless.
Well, I must follow his example of withdrawal, if not his precept of
appetite. I am pleased to have met you, Mr. Witherspoon, and I hope to
see you often."

"I think you shall, as I intend to make this my resting-place."

"There is another character," said McGlenn, referring to Mortimer. "He
is a very learned man, so much so that he has no need of imagination.
He is a _very_ learned man."

"And he is charmed with the prospect of saying a mean thing," Richmond
replied. "I tell him so," he added, "though that is needless, for he
knows it himself. His mind has traveled over a large scope of
intellectual territory, and he commands my respect while I object to
his methods."

The conversation took a serious turn, and Richmond flooded it with his
learning. His voice was low and his manner modest--a great man who in
the game of human affairs played below the limit of his abilities.
McGlenn roused himself. When emphatic, he had a way of turning out his
thumb and slowly hammering his knee with his fist. In his sky there
was a cloud of pessimism, but the brightness of his speech threw a
rainbow across it. He was a poet in the garb of a Diogenes. Many of
his theories were wrong, but all were striking. Sometimes his
sentences flashed like a scythe swinging in the sunshine.

Henry talked as he had never found occasion to talk before. These men
inspired him, and in acknowledgment of this he said: "We may for years
carry in our minds a sort of mist that we cannot shape into an idea.
Suddenly we meet a man, and he speaks the word of life unto that mist,
and instantly it becomes a thought."

Other members joined the group, and the conversation broke and flew
into sharp fragments. McGlenn and Richmond began to wrangle.

"Your children may not read my books," said McGlenn, replying to some
assertion that Richmond had made, "but your great-grandchildren will."

"Oh, that's possible," Richmond rejoined. "I can defend my immediate
offspring, while my descendants may be left without protection. If you
would tear the didacticism out of your books and inject a little more
of the juice of human interest--hold on!" Richmond threw up his arm,
as though warding off a blow. "When that double line comes be