“Go it you two minds!” he said. “Look at me.⁠ ⁠… I don’t do any high and pure mental work, nothing but jot down a few ideas. And yet I neither marry, or run after women. I think Charlie’s quite right; if he wants to run after the women, he’s quite free not to run too often. But I wouldn’t prohibit him from running. As for Hammond, he’s got a property instinct, so naturally the straight road and the narrow gate are right for him. You’ll see he’ll be an English Man of Letters before he’s done, A.B.C. from top to toe. Then there’s me. I’m nothing. Just a squib. And what about you, Clifford? Do you think sex is a dynamo to help a man on to success in the world?”

Clifford rarely talked much at these times. He never held forth; his ideas were really not vital enough for it, he was too confused and emotional. Now he blushed and looked uncomfortable.

“Well!” he said, “being myself hors de combat, I don’t see I’ve anything to say on the matter.”