weaving withered wreaths for the
past--I don't; but I do not forget. And I sit here, writing very
busily, secure in the sheltering personality of the mythical Ian
Verity, firing broadsides at a patient public, giving them the truth as
I see it, whether they want it or not. They don't want it, but most of
the things we don't want are good for us, which is one of the
disagreeable axioms of nursery days. I disguise it sometimes, just as
my old nurse wrapped the powder in a spoonful of raspberry jam out of
the pot which was kept for the purpose on the right-hand corner of the
mantelpiece in the night nursery--I can see it now. But sometimes they
have got to swallow it _pur et simple_, just as it is."

"It is very difficult to know what is the truth," said Philippa slowly;
"the truth as regards our own actions, I mean. We cannot always judge
of the truth of them ourselves."

"It is very difficult. And after all, though we sit here glibly
talking of it, what is truth? It is not easy to define. Dictionaries
will tell you that it is the agreement of our notions with the reality
of things, but that is hardly an answer, for what is the reality of
things? Who can arrive at it? Ten people may witness some
occurrence--a fire, an accident, what you will--and yet, if questioned,
not more than two at most will give the same account of the happening.
Their versions will probably be entirely contradictory in detail, and
yet they may each be under the impression that they are speaking the
truth, giving each an honest description of their notion of the reality
of things. Of course this is a very different matter to deliberately
stating what you know to be untrue; and yet, do you know, I can easily
imagine circumstances where even that would be the only possible
course. You have probably heard the story of the soldier who was
court-martialed for cowardice on the field of battle. I think it was
in the Peninsular War, but I have forgotten. Anyway, the man was
accused of having hidden himself in some safe place until all danger
was over. He turned to his officer after hotly denying the accusation,
and said, 'You know I was in the thick of it, sir. Why, I shouted to
you and you answered me. You must remember.' Well, the officer had
absolutely no recollection of it, and yet it was quite possible that
the man's story was true and that he had forgotten. Think of the
excitement of the moment. Memory plays strange tricks at suc