othing that makes people stare
so as to see one natural."

"You're always thinking too much of 'people.'"

"They say I think too little," Gabriel smiled.

"Well, I've agreed to stand for Harsh," said Nick with a roundabout
transition.

"It's you then who are lucky to have money."

"I haven't," Nick explained. "My expenses are to be paid."

"Then you too must think of 'people.'"

Nick made no answer to this, but after a moment said: "I wish very much
you had more to show for it."

"To show for what?"

"Your little system--the aesthetic life."

Nash hesitated, tolerantly, gaily, as he often did, with an air of being
embarrassed to choose between several answers, any one of which would be
so right. "Oh having something to show's such a poor business. It's a
kind of confession of failure."

"Yes, you're more affected than anything else," said Nick impatiently.

"No, my dear boy, I'm more good-natured: don't I prove it? I'm rather
disappointed to find you not more accessible to esoteric doctrine. But
there is, I confess, another plane of intelligence, honourable, and very
honourable, in its way, from which it may legitimately appear important
to have something to show. If you must confine yourself to that plane I
won't refuse you my sympathy. After all that's what I have to show! But
the degree of my sympathy must of course depend on the nature of the
demonstration you wish to make."

"You know it very well--you've guessed it," Nick returned, looking
before him in a conscious, modest way which would have been called
sheepish had he been a few years younger.

"Ah you've broken the scent with telling me you're going back to the
House of Commons," said Nash.

"No wonder you don't make it out! My situation's certainly absurd
enough. What I really hanker for is to be a painter; and of portraits,
on the whole, I think. That's the abject, crude, ridiculous fact. In
this out-of-the-way corner, at the dead of night, in lowered tones, I
venture to disclose it to you. Isn't that the aesthetic life?"

"Do you know how to paint?" asked Nash.

"Not in the least. No element of burlesque is therefore wanting to my
position."

"That makes no difference. I'm so glad."

"So glad I don't know how?"

"So glad of it all. Yes, that only makes it better. You're a delightful
case, and I like delightful cases. We must see it through. I rejoice I
met you again."

"Do you think I can do anything?" Nick inquired.

"Paint go