, the world of books and plays and personalities and theories of
art. Sypher thought that its denizens lived on a lofty plane.

"The atmosphere," said Rattenden, "is so rarified that the kettle refuses
to boil properly. That is why we always have cold tea at literary
gatherings. My dear fellow, it's a damned world. It talks all day and does
nothing all night. The ragged Italian in front of the fresco in his village
church or at the back of the gallery at the opera of his town knows more
essentials of painting and music than any of us. It's a hollow sham of a
world filled with empty words. I love it."

"Then why abuse it?" laughed Sypher.

"Because it's a wanton and the wanton angers you and fascinates you at the
same time. You never know how to take her. You are aware she hasn't got a
heart, but her lips are red. She is unreal. She holds views in defiance of
common sense. Which is the nobler thing to do--to dig potatoes or paint a
man digging potatoes? She swears to you that the digger is a clod of earth
and the painter a handful of heaven. She is talking rot. You know it. Yet
you believe her."

Sypher was not convinced by the airy paradoxician. He had a childish idea
that painters and novelists and actors were superior beings. Rattenden
found this Arcadian and cultivated Sypher's society. They took long walks
together on Sunday afternoons.

"After all," said Rattenden, "I can speak freely. I am a pariah among my
kind."

Sypher asked why.

"Because I don't play golf. In London it is impossible to be seriously
regarded as a literary man unless you play golf."

He found Sypher a good listener. He loved to catch a theory of life, hold
it in his hand like a struggling bird while he discoursed about it, and let
it go free into the sunshine again. Sypher admired his nimbleness of mind.

"You juggle with ideas as the fellows on the stage do with gilt balls."

"It's a game I learned," said Rattenden. "It's very useful. It takes one's
mind off the dull question of earning bread and butter for a wife and five
children."

"I wish you'd teach it to me," said Sypher. "I've many wives and many
children dependent on me for bread and butter!"

Rattenden was quick to note the tone of depression. He laughed kindly.

"Looking on is just as good. When you're worried in London why don't you
look me up? My wife and I will play the game for you. She's an amusing
body. Heaven knows how I should have got through without her. She a