This saying of Marcus Aurelius troubled Crane. He did not fully believe it. He thought that Marcus Aurelius, like the professors of political economy in colleges and universities, left out of account the great factor of human nature, which makes a bad man to do good acts, and a good man to do bad acts, and makes a man good at one time, bad at another, and both good and bad together. Presently he roused himself and said:
“It would be a great thing for any public man if he could lead such a life that every word he said or wrote could be printed.”
“Why, have you been writing letters lately?”
“God knows, no! I have always had sense enough for that—to write as few letters as possible.”
At that moment Crane felt a thrill of satisfaction—not one line did Governor Sanders have of his.
The two men then began to talk about the political situation generally, and Thorndyke noticed in Crane an exultant spirit, a disposition to brag which had been absent in him at the time of his first rise into prominence, when it might have been expected to develop. The truth was that Crane found the only solace for his moral lapses lay in contemplating the splendid prizes which Sanders had dangled before his eyes. He had come to believe that some of these splendid prizes must be his; it was incredible that he should not receive the price for which he had sold his honour. And as the case always is, whether a man is or is not wholly bad, Crane promised himself at some future time, when he had garnered all the fruits of his wrong-doing, to lead a life of perfect rectitude.
Then they came to the street corner where their paths diverged, and Thorndyke said at parting:
“Please give my warmest regards to Mrs. Crane, and tell her I mean to presume upon her past kindness to me and call to see her in the evening.”
“Have you seen Miss Maitland?” asked Crane.
“No,” replied Thorndyke, who had just proclaimed himself a man of truth. He had not, indeed, seen Constance to speak to her, but the night before, within two hours of his arrival, when he had gone out to smoke his after-dinner cigar, he had sneaked up to her house, and had watched her as she passed to and fro before the lighted windows of the drawing-room.