em of his superiors,
and he promptly recognised their force. He next became aware that it
might help him--not with his superiors but with himself--to apply for an
extension of leave, and then on further reflexion made out that, though
there are some dangers before which it is perfectly consistent with
honour to flee, it was better for every one concerned that he should
fight this especial battle on the spot. During his holiday his plan of
campaign gave him plenty of occupation. He refurbished his arms, rubbed
up his strategy, laid down his lines of defence.

There was only one thing in life his mind had been much made up to, but
on this question he had never wavered: he would get on, to the utmost,
in his profession. That was a point on which it was perfectly lawful to
be unamiable to others--to be vigilant, eager, suspicious, selfish. He
had not in fact been unamiable to others, for his affairs had not
required it: he had got on well enough without hardening his heart.
Fortune had been kind to him and he had passed so many competitors on
the way that he could forswear jealousy and be generous. But he had
always flattered himself his hand wouldn't falter on the day he should
find it necessary to drop bitterness into his cup. This day would be
sure to dawn, since no career could be all clear water to the end; and
then the sacrifice would find him ready. His mind was familiar with the
thought of a sacrifice: it is true that no great plainness invested
beforehand the occasion, the object or the victim. All that particularly
stood out was that the propitiatory offering would have to be some
cherished enjoyment. Very likely indeed this enjoyment would be
associated with the charms of another person--a probability pregnant
with the idea that such charms would have to be dashed out of sight. At
any rate it never had occurred to Sherringham that he himself might be
the sacrifice. You had to pay to get on, but at least you borrowed from
others to do it. When you couldn't borrow you didn't get on, for what
was the situation in life in which you met the whole requisition
yourself?

Least of all had it occurred to our friend that the wrench might come
through his interest in that branch of art on which Nick Dormer had
rallied him. The beauty of a love of the theatre was precisely in its
being a passion exercised on the easiest terms. This was not the region
of responsibility. It was sniffed at, to its discredit, by the austere;
b