"Which we have no right to do, in my opinion. We are not bound to lay our souls bare for every one to look at, but as much as we do show ought to be part of our real selves, and not a mask to put people off the scent. It seems to me that to take the trouble to conceal ourselves, argues an exaggerated idea of our own importance."
"Which reminds me," said Isabel, "of a funny old man we once met at a table d'hôte; he told us in strict confidence that he was the mayor of Little Pettifog, but begged us not to mention it again as he was travelling incog."
Paul laughed. "A most happy instance! It seems to me that there are a good many mayors of Little Pettifog travelling incog.; don't you think so?"
"Yes, I do; and—like you—I have no patience with them."
"But, on the other hand," said Paul, "I think it is, as a rule, our own fault if people behave like the Man in the Iron Mask with us, and proves that we are the same. Don't you think that the world is a very fair mirror, and that people treat us very much as we treat them?"
"Certainly; and if you are single-minded towards your friends, and think more of what is due to them than to you, they in turn will be single-minded towards you, and think more of what is due to you than to themselves. At least, that has been my experience so far."
"And mine too."
"And in the same way if you are time-serving, you will find other people the same," added Isabel.
"Of course, when we are very young, we are anxious that other people should adequately love and fulfil their duty to us; while, as we grow older, we realize that that is their part of the business, not ours, and that what we have to do is to adequately love and fulfil our duty to them. This is merely a question of growth, and the development of a sense of proportion."
"I believe in human nature as a whole. I have trusted a good many people more or less, and none of them as yet have ever failed me," Isabel said.