Robert.
Oh!—for instance, fellows come to me sometimes, who babble ideals to me till my head swims. Fight for the ideals of humanity, and—God knows what all! I—fight for other people!—Childish!—Why, and what for? But you, that just suits you. You would rush round like a runaway thief. “What a wretch I have been,” you would keep on telling yourself! Aren’t I right? Well, and then on the top would come the good intentions, and they get hold of you, I know. I used to go about hung round with hundreds of those good intentions—for years together—and it’s not pleasant, I can tell you.
William.
I don’t really know what you are driving at.
Robert.
Nothing very definite. This unrest, from which you are suffering now, has no doubt other causes—At least I—if I once noticed—there was a time when I went through something of the sort, but once I noticed that the business was likely to be stronger than I—I generally made short work of it, and turned my back.
William.
Is that a hint?
Robert.