Armstrong leaned back farther in his chair. His eyes sought the ceiling whimsically.
“That would naturally bring up the old problem,” he philosophized, “of whether it were better to attempt to do a thing and fail or not to make the attempt and retain one’s self-confidence.”
In her place the girl shifted restlessly, as though the digression annoyed her.
“To return to the starting point,” she said, “you think the greatest pleasure in life is in action, not in passive sensation? We lazy folks—”
“Pardon me,” interrupted Armstrong, “but I want to anticipate and enter an objection. Some of us aren’t lazy. We’re merely economical of our energies.”
“We lazy folks,” repeated the girl, evenly, “are sometimes inclined to think differently.”
This time Roberts hesitated, his face a blank as he studied the two before him. Just perceptibly he leaned forward. His big hands closed on the chair arms. 62
“Are you really interested in hearing the definition of pleasure as I have formulated it for myself, Miss Gleason?” he asked; “I repeat, as I have formulated it for myself?”
“Yes.”
Again Roberts hesitated, his face inscrutable, his body motionless as one asleep.