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, courtly old gentleman, too, with a keen sense of honour. He was very fond of Mr. Gay, though he had no sympathy with his levelling views.

One beautiful moonlit evening Mr. Gay and Jessie were sitting together on Sir Caractacus's lawn. Everything around them was pure and calm and still, so they grew sentimental.

“Stanley,” said Jessie, “we are very, very happy, are we not?”

“Unspeakably happy,” said Gay. “So happy that when I look around me, and see how many there are whose lives are embittered by disappointment—by envy, by hatred, and by malice” (when he grew oratorical he generally lapsed into the Litany) “I turn to the tranquil and unruffled calm of my own pure and happy love for you with gratitude unspeakable.”

He really meant all this, though he expressed himself in rather flatulent periods.

“I wish with all my heart,” said Jessie, “that every soul on earth were as happy as we two.”

“And why are they not?” asked Gay, who hopped on to his hobby whenever it was, so to speak, brought round to the front door. “And why are they not, Jessie? I will tell you why they are not. Because—”

“Yes, darling,” said Jessie, who had often heard his argument before. “I know why. It's dreadful.”

“It's as simple as possible,” said Gay. “Take $$x$$ to represent the abstract human being—”

“Certainly, dear,” said Jessie, who agreed with his argument heart and soul, but didn't want to hear it again. “We took it last night.”