Certainly he had. It was the way to distinction apparently,
assuming the talent, and here he was doing anything but take that way.
Conscience was his barrier, a conscience unmodified by cold
self-interest. Shame upon himself! Shame upon his weak-kneed
disposition, not to be able to recover from this illusion of beauty.
Such were some of the thoughts which his moments of introspection
brought him.

On the other hand, there came over him that other phase of his
duality--the ability to turn his terrible searchlight of intelligence
which swept the heavens and the deep as with a great white ray--upon the
other side of the question. It revealed constantly the inexplicable
subtleties and seeming injustices of nature. He could not help seeing
how the big fish fed upon the little ones, the strong were constantly
using the weak as pawns; the thieves, the grafters, the murderers were
sometimes allowed to prey on society without let or hindrance. Good was
not always rewarded--frequently terribly ill-rewarded. Evil was seen to
flourish beautifully at times. It was all right to say that it would be
punished, but would it? Carlotta did not think so. She did not think the
thing she was doing with him was very evil. She had said to him over and
over that it was an open question, that he was troubled with an
ingrowing conscience. "I don't think it's so bad," she once told him.
"It depends somewhat on how you were raised." There was a system
apparently in society, but also apparently it did not work very well.
Only fools were held by religion, which in the main was an imposition, a
graft and a lie. The honest man might be very fine but he wasn't very
successful. There was a great to-do about morals, but most people were
immoral or unmoral. Why worry? Look to your health! Don't let a morbid
conscience get the better of you. Thus she counselled, and he agreed
with her. For the rest the survival of the fittest was the best. Why
should he worry? He had talent.

It was thus that Eugene floundered to and fro, and it was in this state,
brooding and melancholy, that Angela found him on her arrival. He was as
gay as ever at times, when he was not thinking, but he was very thin and
hollow-eyed, and Angela fancied that it was overwork and worry which
kept him in this state. Why had she left him? Poor Eugene! She had clung
desperately to the money he had given her, and had most of it with her
ready to be expended now for his care. She was so anxious