"I doubt that motive."
"Never mind the motive. Do, man, do! and don't puke. Leave Eugene to lounge through life. He does it nicely. You're made for more."
Stafford looked up at him as he laid a hand on his shoulder.
"It's all misery," he said.
"Now, yes. But not always."
"And it's not what I meant."
"No, you meant to be a saint. Many of us do."
"I feel what you mean, but I have scruples."
Ayre looked at him curiously.
"You're not a man of scruples really," he said; "you'll get over them."