voice sincere and affectionate emotion. Edward was
touched.

"It is good of you to care so much, old friend."

"Come with me to-morrow, Edward. It was a mistake that you ever came to
this place. This is no life for you."

"You talk of this sort of life and that. How do you think a man gets the
best out of life?"

"Why, I should have thought there could be no two answers to that. By
doing his duty, by hard work, by meeting all the obligations of his
state and station."

"And what is his reward?"

"His reward is the consciousness of having achieved what he set out to
do."

"It all sounds a little portentous to me," said Edward, and in the
lightness of the night Bateman could see that he was smiling. "I'm
afraid you'll think I've degenerated sadly. There are several things I
think now which I daresay would have seemed outrageous to me three years
ago."

"Have you learnt them from Arnold Jackson?" asked Bateman, scornfully.

"You don't like him? Perhaps you couldn't be expected to. I didn't when
I first came. I had just the same prejudice as you. He's a very
extraordinary man. You saw for yourself that he makes no secret of the
fact that he was in a penitentiary. I do not know that he regrets it or
the crimes that led him there. The only complaint he ever made in my
hearing was that when he came out his health was impaired. I think he
does not know what remorse is. He is completely unmoral. He accepts
everything and he accepts himself as well. He's generous and kind."

"He always was," interrupted Bateman, "on other people's money."

"I've found him a very good friend. Is it unnatural that I should take
a man as I find him?"

"The result is that you lose the distinction between right and wrong."

"No, they remain just as clearly divided in my mind as before, but what
has become a little confused in me is the distinction between the bad
man and the good one. Is Arnold Jackson a bad man who does good things
or a good man who does bad things? It's a difficult question to answer.
Perhaps we make too much of the difference between one man and another.
Perhaps even the best of us are sinners and the worst of us are saints.
Who knows?"

"You will never persuade me that white is black and that black is
white," said Bateman.

"I'm sure I shan't, Bateman."

Bateman could not understand why the flicker of a smile crossed Edward's
lips when he thus agreed with him. Edward was silent for a minute.

"When I saw yo