what the hated cousins might attempt to prove. But there again she was
distrustful, both of him and of her own judgment. He might be--it seemed
likely--one of those men who conceal the good as well as the bad in
themselves, one of the morally shy men. Or again, perhaps, one of the
morally diffident, who shrink from arrogating to themselves high
standards because they fear for their own virtue if it be put to the
test, and cling to the power of saying, later on, "Well, I told you not
to expect too much from me!" Such various types of men exist, and they do
not fall readily into either of Cynthia's two classes; they are neither
Cransters nor Alecs; certainly not in thought, probably not in conduct.
He had said at Old Place, the first time that she met him, that the war
had destroyed all his scruples. That might be true; but it was hardly the
remark of a man naturally unscrupulous.

She met him one day at Old Place about a week after Christmas. The
Captain was not there; he was at her own house, with Cynthia. With the
rest of the family Beaumaroy was at his best; gaily respectful to Mrs.
Naylor, merry with Gertie, exchanging cut and thrust with old Mr.
Naylor, easy and cordial towards herself. Certainly an attractive human
being and a charming companion, pre-eminently natural. "One talks of
taking people as one finds them," old Naylor said to her when they were
left alone together for a few minutes by the fire, while the others
chatted by the window. "That fellow takes himself as he finds himself!
Not as a pattern, a failure, or a problem, but just as a fact--a
psychological fact."

"That rather shuts out effort, doesn't it? Well, I mean--"

"Strivings?" Mr. Naylor smiled. "Yes, it does. On the other hand, it
gives such free play. That's what makes him interesting, makes you