t you and I would have "got on" with Sir
Galahad?

'So with the sinners, as with the saints. If you met a very evil man,
and recognized his evil; he would, no doubt, fill you with horror and
awe; but there is no reason why you should "dislike" him. On the
contrary, it is quite possible that if you could succeed in putting the
sin out of your mind you might find the sinner capital company, and in a
little while you might have to reason yourself back into horror. Still,
how awful it is. If the roses and the lilies suddenly sang on this
coming morning; if the furniture began to move in procession, as in De
Maupassant's tale!'

'I am glad you have come back to that comparison,' said Cotgrave,
'because I wanted to ask you what it is that corresponds in humanity to
these imaginary feats of inanimate things. In a word--what is sin? You
have given me, I know, an abstract definition, but I should like a
concrete example.'

'I told you it was very rare,' said Ambrose, who appeared willing to
avoid the giving of a direct answer. 'The materialism of the age, which
has done a good deal to suppress sanctity, has done perhaps more to
suppress evil. We find the earth so very comfortable that we have no
inclination either for ascents or descents. It would seem as if the
scholar who decided to "specialize" in Tophet, would be reduced to
purely antiquarian researches. No palaeontologist could show you a _live_
pterodactyl.'

'And yet you, I think, have "specialized," and I believe that your
researches have descended to our modern times.'

'You are really interested, I see. Well, I confess, that I have dabbled
a little, and if you like I can show you something that bears on the
very curious subject we have been discussing.'

Ambrose took a candle and went away to a far, dim corner of the room.
Cotgrave saw him open a venerable bureau that stood there, and from some
secret recess he drew out a parcel, and came back to the window where
they had been sitting.

Ambrose undid a wrapping of paper, and produced a green pocket-book.

'You will take care of it?' he said. 'Don't leave it lying about. It is
one of the choicer pieces in my collection, and I should be very sorry
if it were lost.'

He fondled the faded binding.

'I knew the girl who wrote this,' he said. 'When you read it, you will
see how it illustrates the talk we have had to-night. There is a sequel,
too, but I won't talk of that.'

'There was an odd article in one of