full of a passion for Nature and a contempt for facts, on one hand; and
the excellent, commonplace, uncomprehending aunt, with her philistine
friends and blundering notions as to what was good for him, upon the
other. It was an amusing situation, and psychologically very
interesting. St Aubyn listened attentively with a sympathetic smile as
Austin stated his case.

"I see, I see," he said nodding. "You feel it imperative to lead your
own life and try to live up to your own ideals. That is good--quite
good. And you are not in sympathy with your aunt's friends. Nothing
more natural. Of course it is important to be sure that your ideals
are the highest possible. Do you think they are?"

"They seem so. They are the highest possible for _me_," replied Austin
earnestly.

"That implies a limitation," observed St Aubyn, emitting a stream of
blue smoke from his lips. "Well, we all have our limitations. You
appear to have a very strong sense that every man should realise his
own individuality to the full; that that is his first duty to
himself. Tell me then--does it never occur to you that we may also
have duties to others?"

"Why, yes--certainly," said Austin. "I only mean that we have _no
right_ to sacrifice our own individualities to other people's ideas.
For instance, my aunt, who has always been the best of friends to me,
is for ever worrying me to associate with people who rasp every nerve
in my body, because she thinks that it would do me good. Then I rebel.
I simply will not do it."