George smiled.
"I know I have to forget all that."
"In intellectual circles," Bailly agreed.
He glanced slyly around.
"I've scanned such matter," he whispered, "with a modicum of enjoyment, so I can assure you the book you have in your hand possesses nearly equal merit, yet you may discuss it without losing caste in the most exalted places; which would seem to indicate that human judgment is based on manner rather than matter."
"You mean," George said, frowning, "that if a man does a rotten thing it is the way he does it rather than the thing itself that is judged?"
Bailly limped up and down, his hands behind his back. He faced George with a little show of bewildered temper.
"See here, Freshman Morton, I've taught you to think too fast. You can't fasten a scheme of ethics on any silly aphorism of mine. Go home and read your book. Dwell with picturesque pirates, and walk with flawless and touching virtue. Delve for buried treasure. That, at least, is always worth while."
George's attitude was a challenge.
"Remembering," he said, softly, "to dig in a nice manner even if your hands do get dirty."