"But you must. Everybody has, to a certain extent."
"Well, to ride straight and tell the truth—like the ancient Persians, I suppose it was the Persians—anyway it's a sort of rough code I've got."
"Have you read Nietzsche?" she asked suddenly.
He frowned perplexedly. "Nietzsche—that's the mad superman chap, isn't it? No. I've not read a word."
"I do wish you would. You'll find him so exhilarating. You might possibly agree with a lot of what he says. I don't. But he sets you thinking."
She sketched her somewhat prim conception of the Nietzschean philosophy, and after listening to it in dumb wonder, he promised to carry out her wishes. So, when I came down to my library that evening dressed for dinner, I found him, still in morning clothes, with "Thus Spake Zarathustra" on his knees, and a bewildered expression on his face.
"Have you read this, Hilary?" he asked.
"Yes," said I.
"Understand it?"
"More or less."