hing or other. She idolises Art and
worships everything that's beautiful."

"Do you think it's really that sort of thing that makes people better?"
said Ned.

"How can it help making them better if their hearts are good? When what
is ugly and miserable in life jars on one at every turn because one loves
so what is harmonious and beautiful, there seems to me to be only one of
two things to be done, either to shut your eyes to others and become a
selfish egotist or to try with all your strength to bring a beautiful
life to others. I'm speaking, of course, particularly of people like the
Strattons. But I think that hatred of what is repulsive is a big
influence with all of us."

"You mean of dirty streets, stuffy houses and sloppy clothes?"

"Oh! More than that. Of ugly lives, of ugly thoughts, of others, and
ourselves perhaps, just existing like working bullocks when we might be
so happy, of living being generally such a hateful thing when it might be
so sweet!"

"I suppose the Strattons are happy?"

"Not as happy as everybody might be if the world was right. They
understand music and pictures and colouring and books. He reads science a
lot and paints--funny mixture, isn't it?--and she teaches the
children a great deal. They go boating together. They both work at what
they like and are clever enough to be fairly sure of plenty to do. They
have friends who take an interest in the things that interest them and
their children are little angels. They aren't short of money for anything
they need because they really live simply and so have plenty to spend.
And, then, they are such kind people. She has a way with her that makes
you feel better no matter how miserable you've been. That's happiness, I
think, as far as it goes. But she feels much as I do about children. She
is so afraid that they will not be happy and blames herself for being
selfish because other people's children never have any happiness and
would do anything to alter things so that it would be different. Still,
of course, they have a happy life as far as the life itself goes. I
think, the way they live, they must both feel as if they were each better
and knew more and cared for each other more the older they get."

"It must be very pleasant," said Ned, after a pause. They had reached the
higher ground and were passing under branches from which the rain-drops,
collected, fell in great splashes on the umbrella.

"Yes," said Nellie, after another pause.