e very good laws, but they were nothing to him. What he wanted
to know about was the law which this great world--the devil's
world, as Grey called it--was ruled by, or rather ought to be
ruled by. Perhaps, after all, Bentham and the others, whose books
he had been reading, might be right! At any rate, it was clear
that they had had in their thoughts the same world that he
had--the world which included himself and Harry Winburn, and all
labourers and squires, and farmers. So he turned to them again,
not hopefully, but more inclined to listen to them than he had
been before he had spoken to Grey.

Hardy was so fully occupied with college lectures and private
pupils, that Tom had scruples about taking up much of his spare
time in the evenings. Nevertheless, as Grey had broken down, and
there was nobody else on whose judgment he could rely who would
listen to him, whenever he had a chance he would propound some of
his puzzles to his old friend. In some respects he got little
help, for Hardy was almost as much at sea as he himself on such
subjects as "value," and "wages," and the "laws of supply and
demand." But there was an indomitable belief in him that all
men's intercourse with one another, and not merely that of
Churchmen, must be founded on the principal of "doing as they
would be done by," and not on "buying cheap and selling dear,"
and that these never would or could be reconciled with one
another, or mean the same thing, twist them how you would. This
faith of his friend's comforted Tom greatly, and he was never
tired of bringing it out; but at times he had his doubts whether
Grey might not be right--whether, after all, that and the like
maxims and principles were meant to be the laws of the kingdoms
of this world. He wanted some corroborative evidence on the
subject from an impartial and competent witness, and at last hit
upon what he wanted. For, one evening, on entering Hardy's rooms,
he found him on the last pages of a book, which he shut up with
an air of triumph on recognizing his visitor. Taking it up, he
thrust it into Tom's hands, and slapping him on the shoulder,
said, "There, my boy, that's what we want, or pretty near it at
any rate. Now, don't say a word, but go back to your rooms, and
swallow it whole and digest it, and then come back and tell me
what you think of it."

"But I want to talk to you."

"I can't talk. I have spent the better part of two days over that
book, and have no end of papers