ent did it occur to
Laurence to efface himself in this connection. Duty? Hang duty! He had
made a most ruinous muddle of his whole life through reverencing that
fetich word. Honour? There was no breach of honour where there was no
deception, no pretence. Consideration for others? Who on earth ever
dreamt of considering him--when to do so would cost them anything, that
is? Unselfishness? Everybody was selfish--everything even. What had he
ever gained by striving to improve upon the universal law?
Nothing--nothing good; everything bad--bad and deteriorating--morally
and physically.

And now, should he put the goblet from his lips? Not he. This strong,
new wine of life had rejuvenated him. Its rich, sweet fumes, so far from
clouding his brain, had cleared it. It had enwrapped his heart in a glow
as of re-enkindled fire, and caused the stagnated blood to course once
more through his veins, warm and strong and free. His very step had
gained an elasticity, a firmness, to which it had long been strange. And
yet with all this, his judgment had remained undimmed, keen, clear,
subject to no illusions. The logic of the situation was rather pitiless,
perchance cruel. He was under no sort of illusion on that score. Well,
let it be. Here again came in the universal law of life, the battle of
the strong. There was no weakness left in him.

"For my part, I like Hazon," cut in Holmes decisively; "he only wants
knowing. And because he doesn't let himself go for the benefit of every
bounder on the Rand, they talk about him as if he'd committed no end of
murders. It's my belief that half the fellows who abuse him are ten
thousand times worse than him," he added, with the robust partisanship
of hearty youth.

Further discussion of Hazon and his derelictions, real or imaginary, was
cut short by the arrival of more visitors, mostly of the sterner sex;
for Mrs. Falkner liked her acquaintance to drop in informally--a
predilection her acquaintance, if young and especially of the harder sex
aforesaid, for obvious reasons, delighted just at present to humour.
George, however, in no wise shared his aunt's expansiveness in this
direction, if only that it meant that Lilith was promptly surrounded by
an adoring phalanx, even as on the deck of the _Persian_.

Now it was voted cool enough for lawn tennis--for which distraction,
indeed, some of the droppers-in were suitably attired--and there was
keen competition for Lilith as a partner; and Holmes