he sentiments, the morality, the laws and
limitations which make up the common life, has been or is being
destroyed.... Two or three hundred years more and all that life will be
as much a thing past and done with as the life that was lived in the age
of unpolished stone....

"Man is leaving his ancestral shelters and going out upon the greatest
adventure that ever was in space or time, he is doing it now, he is
doing it in us as I stand here and read to you."

CHAPTER THE SECOND ~~ THE YOUNG MAN ABOUT TOWN

1

The oldest novel in the world at any rate, White reflected, was a story
with a hero and no love interest worth talking about. It was the story
of Tobias and how he came out from the shelters of his youth into this
magic and intricate world. Its heroine was incidental, part of the
spoil, a seven times relict....

White had not read the book of Tobit for many years, and what he was
really thinking of was not that ancient story at all, but Botticelli's
picture, that picture of the sunlit morning of life. When you say
"Tobias" that is what most intelligent people will recall. Perhaps you
will remember how gaily and confidently the young man strides along with
the armoured angel by his side. Absurdly enough, Benham and his dream of
high aristocracy reminded White of that....

"We have all been Tobias in our time," said White.

If White had been writing this chapter he would have in all probability
called it THE TOBIAS STAGE, forgetful that there was no Tobit behind
Benham and an entirely different Sara in front of him.

2

From Cambridge Benham came to London. For the first time he was to live
in London. Never before had he been in London for more than a few days
at a time. But now, guided by his mother's advice, he was to have a flat
in Finacue street, just round the corner from Desborough Street, a flat
very completely and delightfully furnished under her supervision. It had
an admirable study, in which she had arranged not only his books, but
a number of others in beautiful old leather bindings that it had
amused her extremely to buy; it had a splendid bureau and business-like
letter-filing cabinets, a neat little drawing-room and a dining-room,
well-placed abundant electric lights, and a man called Merkle whom
she had selected very carefully and who she felt would not only see to
Benham's comfort but keep him, if necessary, up to the mark.

This man Merkle seemed quite unaware that hum