“Sam is not singular,” put in Mr. Aston, in his meditative way, “character is all more or less a question of degree. There are the same fundamental instincts 343 in all of us. Some get developed at the expense of others, that’s all.”
“There but for the grace of God goes ...” said Patricia, laughing.
Christopher felt in his pocket and produced a coin.
“Apropos of which, Cæsar,” he said with a flicker of a smile, “I found this, the other day rummaging in an old box.”
He tossed it dexterously to Cæsar. It was a sovereign with a hole in it and the broken link of a chain therein. Cæsar looked at it and then slipped it in his own pocket.
“It’s mine, at all events,” he said shortly, “and we are all talking nonsense, especially Christopher.”
But Christopher shook his head.
“Mayn’t I understand all this?” demanded Patricia.
“No,” returned Cæsar, before Christopher could speak. “It’s not worth it. John Bunyan was a fool.”
“Not at all, but the other man might have retorted, ‘there with the grace of God goes I.’”