bewildered, confessed that he was.

"I'm disappointed that you didn't add a little Buddhism," said Weeks. "And
I confess I have a sort of sympathy for Mahomet; I regret that you should
have left him out in the cold."

Hayward laughed, for he was in a good humour with himself that evening,
and the ring of his sentences still sounded pleasant in his ears. He
emptied his glass.

"I didn't expect you to understand me," he answered. "With your cold
American intelligence you can only adopt the critical attitude. Emerson
and all that sort of thing. But what is criticism? Criticism is purely
destructive; anyone can destroy, but not everyone can build up. You are a
pedant, my dear fellow. The important thing is to construct: I am
constructive; I am a poet."

Weeks looked at him with eyes which seemed at the same time to be quite
grave and yet to be smiling brightly.

"I think, if you don't mind my saying so, you're a little drunk."

"Nothing to speak of," answered Hayward cheerfully. "And not enough for me
to be unable to overwhelm you in argument. But come, I have unbosomed my
soul; now tell us what your religion is."

Weeks put his head on one side so that he looked like a sparrow on a
perch.

"I've been trying to find that out for years. I think I'm a Unitarian."

"But that's a dissenter," said Philip.

He could not imagine why they both burst into laughter, Hayward
uproariously, and Weeks with a funny chuckle.

"And in England dissenters aren't gentlemen, are they?" asked Weeks.

"Well, if you ask me point-blank, they're not," replied Philip rather
crossly.

He hated being laughed at, and they laughed again.

"And will you tell me what a gentleman is?" asked Weeks.

"Oh, I don't know; everyone knows what it is."

"Are you a gentleman?"

No doubt had ever crossed Philip's mind on the subject, but he knew it was
not a thing to state of oneself.

"If a man tells you he's a gentleman you can bet your boots he isn't," he
retorted.

"Am I a gentleman?"

Philip's truthfulness made it difficult for him to answer, but he was
naturally polite.

"Oh, well, you're different," he said. "You're American, aren't you?"

"I suppose we may take it that only Englishmen are gentlemen," said Weeks
gravely.

Philip did not contradict him.

"Couldn't you give me a few more particulars?" asked Weeks.

Philip reddened, but, growing angry, did not care if he made himself
ridiculous.

"I can give you plenty." He re