After all David had sown the seed. What right had he to declare which should be the fruitful ground? The love of humanity must be honest—must not wince at every contact with imperfection. If not he—then some one perhaps less suitable....
"I wish it wasn't Coast," said David.
"Why? Isn't the man all right? What is there against him?"
Hunting's relentless little eyes flashed from David to his notebook.
"I don't like his moustache," said David—which was true, but not the whole truth, because by this time he had decided that Hunting was one of those people to whom one cannot tell the whole truth. He was too relevant.
Hunting shrugged his shoulders.
"Is that all?" he asked with determined patience.
David reached for his hat, and hurriedly collected the fugitive leaves of his article.
"Not quite all," he said, smiling. "But, if you don't mind coming round the corner to my digs, I'll give you all the information I can. I think your work is needed."