"With all my heart, if you can contrive to separate the right from the wrong. I never could. I am always brought back to that grand bold line—
'Mit ihm zu irren ist dir Gewinn.'
You don't believe that?"
Miss Lascelles laughed, and shook her head. "I don't mean to go astray with anybody, if I can help it. I had no idea, Miss Maclean, that you were so desperately—mediæval."
Mona smiled.
"I think it is rather Greek than mediæval to shut one's eyes to abuses, and eat one's pudding in comfort. The mediæval spirit renounces the pudding, and looks beyond the abuses."
Miss Lascelles sprang to her feet, and carelessly threw on her broad picturesque hat.
"I am neither Greek nor mediæval, then," she said, involuntarily drawing up the sleeves from her plump pretty wrists as she spoke; "for I choose to share my pudding, and wage war to the death against the abuses."
"Brava!" said Mona. "You are one of the sort that live in history."
"For knocking down a castle of cards?"