ough he were indulging the
opinions of a child.

"Well, it isn't right, you know--it isn't really. I don't want to tell
you that you're a fool or a rotter, because you aren't, but that's just
what makes it so disappointing for any one who cares about you. You're
letting all your finer self go. You're becoming, what they say you
are, a waster. Of course, finding yourself's all right--every man
ought to do that. But you have no right to throw off all claims as
completely as you have done. Life isn't like that. We've all got our
Land of Promise, and, just in order that it may remain, we are never
allowed to reach it. Whilst you are lying on your back on the moor,
your wife and daughter are killing themselves in order to keep the home
together--I say that it is not fair."

"Oh, come, Trojan," Bethel protested, "is that quite fair on your side?
Things are all right, you know. They like it better, they do really.
Why, if I were to stay at home and try to work they'd think I was going
to be ill. Besides, I couldn't--not at an office or anything like
that. It isn't my fault, really--but it would kill me now if I
couldn't get away when I want to--not having liberty would be worse
than death."

"Ah, that's yourself," said Harry. "That's selfish. Why don't you
think of them? You can't let things go on as they are, man. You must
get something to do."

"I'm damned if I will." Bethel stopped short and stretched his arms
wide over the moor. "It isn't as if it would do them any good, and it
would kill me. Why, one is deaf and blind and dumb as soon as one has
work to do. I'm a child, you know. I've never grown up, and of course
I hadn't any right to marry. I don't know now why I did. And all you
people--you grown-ups--with your businesses and difficult pleasures and
noisy feasts--of course you can't understand what these things mean.
Only a few of you who sit with folded hands and listen can know what it
is. I saw a picture once--some people feasting in a forest, and
suddenly a little faun jumped from a tree on to their table and waited
for them to play with him. But some were eating and some drinking and
some talking scandal, and they did not see him. Only a little boy and
an old man--they were doing nothing--just dreaming--and they saw him.
Oh! I tell you, the dreamer has his philosophy and creed like the rest
of you!"

"That's all very well," cried Harry. "But it's a case of bread and
butter. You w