"Your friend Jack is delightful," Reginald remarked, looking up from his
papers. "And his ebon-coloured hair contrasts prettily with the gold in
yours. I should imagine that you are temperamental antipodes."

"So we are; but friendship bridges the chasm between."

"How long have you known him?"

"We have been chums ever since our sophomore year."

"What attracted you in him?"

"It is no simple matter to define exactly one's likes and dislikes. Even
a tiny protoplasmic animal appears to be highly complex under the
microscope. How can we hope to analyse, with any degree of certitude,
our souls, especially when, under the influence of feeling, we see as
through a glass darkly."

"It is true that personal feeling colours our spectacles and distorts
the perspective. Still, we should not shrink from self-analysis. We must
learn to see clearly into our own hearts if we would give vitality to
our work. Indiscretion is the better part of literature, and it
behooves us to hound down each delicate elusive shadow of emotion, and
convert it into copy."

"It is because I am so self-analytical that I realise the complexity of
my nature, and am at a loss to define my emotions. Conflicting forces
sway us hither and thither without neutralising each other. Physicology
isn't physics. There were many things to attract me to Jack. He was
subtler, more sympathetic, more feminine, perhaps, than the rest of my