“Well, and well. I take you on clause two of your reasoning. If, in being careless of your own salvation, you are careless of that of others (and surely it so follows, having regard to precept and influence), you are selfish. But, if you think of others, you are not careless of your own; for no man would of his true generosity help his neighbour to that which he himself scorns. Now, the manner of your purposed exit; the unexampled sweetness, sir, with which you have met my most impertinent intrusion, convince me that you are far from feeling a careless indifference to your fellows.”
“I have a measure of good-humour. I would not kick the stool from under my neighbour because I sit upon a stone. But the first test of humour is to know itself bested; to succumb to the finer wit—and that the devil hath shown.”
“Disprove him. He hath stood so long in his own shadow that he fancies himself a giant. He tiptoes against the setting sun, and his dead image seems to embrace the world. Upset him, and he lies but a pigmy.”
“My friend, he is not to be felled but by the stone of godliness. That I never possessed, for it is not purchasable. And if it were, my pouch is empty.”
“Yet you gave, in hard cash, ten guineas for this crank vessel that is worth——”
“It was my all—I swear it. And now I have bought Charon’s ferry-boat, and future souls must swim. Not much consideration for my neighbour in that.”
“So I have said nought to move you from your purpose?”
“I greatly regret—nothing.”
The spare stranger groaned.
“It shall be a lesson to my self-sufficiency. Well, sir, I must play a better card.”