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134 since one day Chelubai came to me in a fuming indignation because a middle-aged clerk in the Bank of England had asked him if he took him for a murderer.

I let Chelubai unload his overburdened soul. Then I said: "I'm afraid you must have put it to him very badly, if he could so misunderstand you."

"Perhaps I did. Perhaps I did," said Chelubai. "But that's the worst of enthusiasm—one gets carried away."

"You ought not to. You have had a business training; and if it is not as absolutely useless as I have always suspected, it ought to have taught you restraint."

"I suppose it ought," said Chelubai.

"Of course when one thinks of Humanity, one is apt to get carried away," I said. "But I think when you are sounding an heir you should try to persuade yourself that you are not engaged in a glorious philanthropic enterprise, but merely in a cold business transaction. Then you would keep cool, and not lay yourself open to misconception."

"But one gets enthusiastic in business, too," said Chelubai.

"A morbid enthusiasm—and not to the same extent as in philanthropy," said I.

"That's true. I'll try going more gently, any way," said Chelubai; and he seemed comforted by my suggestion.