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"And it isn't a
trifle."
He came to Benham's hearthrug. "That business," he said, "has
changed all my views. No--don't say something polite! I see that
if one hasn't the habit of pride one is bound to get off a dogcart
when it seems likely to smash. You have the habit of pride, and I
haven't. So far as the habit of pride goes, I come over to the
theory of aristocracy."
Benham said nothing, but he put down Sidney and Beatrice Webb, and
reached out for and got and lit a cigarette.
"I give up 'Go as you please.' I give up the natural man. I admit
training. I perceive I am lax and flabby, unguarded, I funk too
much, I eat too much, and I drink too much. And, yet, what I have
always liked in you, Benham, is just this--that you don't."
"I do," said Benham.
"Do what?"
"Funk."
"Benham, I believe that naturally you funk as much as I do. You're
more a thing of nerves than I am, far more. But you keep yourself
up to the mark, and I have let myself get flabby. You're so right.
You're so utterly right. These last nights I've confessed it--
aloud.


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