good deal to say to each other. The one knew a great deal, and the other
had seen a great deal; both were given to looking at life rather
seriously than the reverse. Barker never deceived himself for a moment
about the reality of things, and spent much of his time in the practical
adaptation of means to ends he had in view; he was superficial in his
knowledge, but profound in his actions. Claudius was an intellectual
seeker after an outward and visible expression of an inward and
spiritual truth which he felt must exist, though he knew he might spend
a lifetime in the preliminary steps towards its attainment. Just now
they were talking of marriage.

"It is detestable," said Claudius, "to think how mercenary the marriage
contract is, in all civilised and uncivilised countries. It ought not
to be so--it is wrong from the very beginning."

"Yes, it is wrong of course," answered Barker, who was always ready to
admit the existence and even the beauty of an ideal, though he never
took the ideal into consideration for a moment in his doings. "Of course
it is wrong; but it cannot be helped. It crops up everywhere, as the
question of dollars and cents will in every kind of business; and I
believe it is better to be done with it at first. Now you have to pay a
Frenchman cash down before he will marry your daughter."

"I know," said Claudius, "and I loathe the idea."

"I respect your loathing, but there it is, and it has the great
advantage that it is all over, and there is no more talk about it. Now
the trouble in our country is that people marry for love, and when they
get through loving they have got to live, and then somebody must pay the
bills. Supposing the son of one rich father marries the daughter of