Claire asked.

The answers she obtained were the two men revealed.

"The fullest life possible for me," said Lawrence.

"The fullest heart possible for me," followed Philip.

"But you both mean the same thing, don't you?" asked Claire.

"I mean the fullest number of my own desires gratified," Lawrence
avowed.

Philip leaned back in his chair and looked at Claire, meditatively.

"If he did as he says, we should have to lock him up," he observed.

They all laughed.

"Not at all." Lawrence was amiably argumentative. "To be sure, if my
desires were gratified at your expense, as this smoke, for example"--he
laughed--"and on an all-inclusive scale, you might have to resort to
personal violence. But, in fact, many of my desires would bring you joy
in their gratification, you know."

"I do know," said Philip cordially, "but the danger in your point of
view is that it allows for no check. You would sacrifice both of us if
it were necessary to gratify your desires--that is, if you lived true to
your assertion."

"Perhaps I would. I don't know. There is the weak point in my whole
scheme. I evade it by failing to sacrifice you, but I support my theory
by saying there is no occasion to do so."

"I don't like your principles," Philip rejoined, "though I admit that my
own fail me more often than not."

"Exactly. We humans do fail, and the conclusion to which it brings me
is, why hold principles that you find unworkable? I prefer a standard to
which I can at least be true, in the main, and avoid self-condemnation,
pricks of conscience, and other little inconveniences."

"Such as a sense of duty?" interrupted Claire.

"That above all, Claire," he laughed.

"And obligation?"

"Yes, that too, if you mean a sense of being bound to one because of
something he has done in the past. For instance, I am obliged to Philip
for his food, his house, my life, and this cigarette, but I scarcely
feel that that would imply that I must sacrifice my greatest desire in
life as payment if necessary. Of course, it isn't necessary, but if it
were, I should refuse."

"I think you would not," asserted Philip.

"I know I would. I rather believe you would also, though it might be
that you would not."

"I would sacrifice anything to pay a debt of gratitude." Philip spoke
warmly.

"You would--perhaps--but in so doing would you not feel that gratitude
was the thing of supreme worth to yourself?"

"Not necessarily. I might even suffer a