t thing they've got."

The food enabled Mavis to recover her spirits. It appeared to have a
contrary effect on Perigal; the little he ate seemed to incline him to
gloomy thoughts.

"I'm afraid you're going to be ill," she remarked.

"I'm all right. Don't worry about me."

"I won't. I'll worry the eggs and bacon instead."

Presently, he raised the glass of ginger brandy in his hands.

"Here's to the unattainable!" he said.

"And that?"

"Happiness."

"Nonsense! Everyone can be happy if they like."

"Little Mavis, let me tell you something."

"Something dismal?"

"No one ever was, is, or can be really happy: it's a law of nature."

"I've come across people who're absolutely happy."

"Listen. Nature, for her own ends, the survival of the fittest, has
arranged matters so that we're always, always striving. We think that a
certain end will bring happiness, and struggle like blazes to get it,
to find that satisfaction is a myth; to discover that, no sooner do we
possess a thing than we weary of what was once so ardently desired, and
immediately crave for something else which, if obtained, gives no more
satisfaction than the last thing hungered for."

"I don't believe it for a moment. Besides, why should it be?"

"Because it's necessary to keep the species going. By constantly
fighting with others for some goal, it sharpens our faculties and makes
us more fitted to hold our own; if it weren't for this struggle, we
should stagnate and very soon go under."

"Even if some of what you say is true, there's the pleasure of getting."

"At first. But if one 'spots' this clever trick of nature and one is
convinced that nothing, nothing on earth is worth struggling for--what
then?"

"That it's a very foolish state of mind to get into, and the sooner you
get out of it the better."

"You said just now there was the pleasure of getting. I know something
better."

"And that?"

"The pleasure of forgetting."

He glanced meaningly at her.

"Are you forgetting now?" she asked.

"Can you ask?"

Mavis blushed; she bent down to pat Jill in order to conceal the
pleasure his words gave her.

"Tell me what Archie Windebank said about me," she presently said.

"Blow Windebank!"

"I want to know."

"Then I suppose I must tell you."

"Of course: out with it and get it over."

"You met him once in town, didn't you?"

"Only once."

"Where?"

"Quite casually. Tell me what he said."

"He wanted to know if I