"Not at all. It is admitted that the garb of civil society has never fitted me. Any coat will go on me, but none will fit to the satisfaction of fashion. But as to the anchorite, I would not argue a parallel. I suspect he will cut his coat to newer fashions than mine—possibly than yours. My dear sir, I'm an egoist and you're an egoist."
"True," murmured Thaddeus, "a social egoist."
Mavering stopped long enough to reflect that he liked this Thaddeus Bourn, a man apparently with conversations in him.
"Very good. And so it occurs to me in passing that I may be the more elementary, anterior type; and, say, Morgan Map, a still further elementary, anterior, antediluvian—"
"Excellent!" cried Thaddeus; "excellent choice of phrase! My idea exactly! I said a primary, primitive, primordial."
"Good words, all of them—descriptive and discreet."
The two smiled at each other with appreciation.
"Map might do," continued Mavering, "if he had all the room there was. He needs more room, properly for his state of culture, even than I do. Now the anchorite—I refer to Captain Windham—is, if an egoist, possibly a fourth kind; I am inclined to think—to question—whether we might not argue him even in advance in continuance of this theory, which. I perceive you agree with me, is not without interest."
"But," said Thaddeus, distinguishing, marking precision with his eye-glass, held between two fingers, "as regards, now, a definition."
"I leave it to your more discriminating choice. I contribute this observation, however, that when the anchorite wants more room he is apt to climb into the air for it, instead of quarrelling with his neighbors on the earth."