said Stephen. "I don't want you to act at all."

Hilary laughed. Hearing that rather bitter laugh, Stephen felt a little
ache about his heart.

"Come, old boy," he said, "we can trust each other, anyway."

Hilary gave his brother's arm a squeeze.

Moved by that pressure, Stephen spoke:

"I hate you to be worried over such a rotten business."

The whizz of a motor-car rapidly approaching them became a sort of roar,
and out of it a voice shouted: "How are you?" A hand was seen to rise in
salute. It was Mr. Purcey driving his A.i. Damyer back to Wimbledon.
Before him in the sunlight a little shadow fled; behind him the reek of
petrol seemed to darken the road.

"There's a symbol for you," muttered Hilary.

"How do you mean?" said Stephen dryly. The word "symbol" was
distasteful to him.

"The machine in the middle moving on its business; shadows like you and
me skipping in front; oil and used-up stuff dropping behind.
Society-body, beak, and bones."

Stephen took time to answer. "That's rather far-fetched," he said. "You
mean these Hughs and people are the droppings?"

"Quite so," was Hilary's sardonic answer. "There's the body of that
fellow and his car between our sort and them--and no getting over it,
Stevie."

"Well, who wants to? If you're thinking of our old friend's Fraternity,
I'm not taking any." And Stephen suddenly added: "Look here, I believe
this affair is all 'a plant.'"

"You see that Powder Magazine?" said Hilary. "Well, this business that
you call a 'plant' is more like that. I don't want to alarm you, but I
think you as well as our young friend Martin, are inclined to underrate
the emotional capacity of human nature."

Disquietude broke up the customary mask on Stephen's face: "I don't
understand," he stammered.

"Well, we're none of us machines, not even amateurs like me--not even
under-dogs like Hughs. I fancy you may find a certain warmth, not to say
violence, about this business. I tell you frankly that I don't live in
married celibacy quite with impunity. I can't answer for anything, in
fact. You had better stand clear, Stephen--that's all."

Stephen marked his thin hands quivering, and this alarmed him as nothing
else had done.

They walked on beside the water. Stephen spoke quietly, looking at the
ground. "How can I stand clear, old man, if you are going to get into a
mess? That's impossible."

He saw at once that this shot, which indeed was from his heart