a had to be parted almost by force. Diana sent a final shot
from the door, and then scampered away.

"The little rogue!" murmured Archibald, and then broke into one of
those unrestrained laughs which he usually reserved for his own
witticisms.

The three men drew near the fire. Medhurst said something about taking
Diana in hand. She had been somewhat spoiled at school, being looked
upon as a sort of demi-goddess by her classmates. Archibald declared
he wouldn't have her any different for the world. What was the good of
a girl if she was just the same as any other girl? Thence, proceeding
to attack convention, Archibald eventually steered the conversation
round to the contribution he himself purposed making to ethical
philosophy, for he had been waiting for an opportunity to let Medhurst
into the secret.

"It's curious that the more one thinks, John, the more one gets one's
notions upset. I know quite well that most people would think it a
highly dangerous doctrine to put forward, but I really cannot see that
the man who is a saint deserves any more to be praised than the man
who is a murderer. The murderer is simply unfortunate and ought to be
pitied. Nature gave him the impulse to murder--in fact, on a closer
analysis, all personal responsibility seems to disappear."

"And what does your wife say to all this? Isn't she rather alarmed?"
asked Medhurst.

"My wife!" exclaimed the banker, contemptuously. "She's hopelessly
behind the times. Why, she's a perfect child. She takes no interest in
anything beyond the tittle-tattle of the county. We had quite a scene
the other day because I gave expression to my opinion that young
people should be properly instructed in life by means of explanatory
handbooks, instead of being left to gather their knowledge haphazard.
I have never known her to make a single original remark--her
observations are invariably the most obvious. Morgan should be
thankful for the happy hazard of nature which fashioned his brain
rather in the mould of mine than in that of his mother."

"And so you really intend publishing?" said Medhurst.

"I am not afraid. People must be taught to look the problems of life
straight in the face. Truth must be driven home, my dear John, and it
is my intention to say some pretty straight things to the world."

"Have you yet fixed on a title?" asked Medhurst, secretly amused at
this sudden, strange development on the part of his old friend.

"Ah! there's just the