him--"it's humbug to talk of doing things for the sake of Society; it's
nothing but the instinct to keep our own heads above the water."

But Halidome remained unruffled.

"All right," he said, "call it that. I don't see why I should go to the
wall; it wouldn't do any good."

"You admit, then," said Shelton, "that our morality is the sum total of
everybody's private instinct of self-preservation?"

Halidome stretched his splendid frame and yawned.

"I don't know," he began, "that I should quite call it that--"

But the compelling complacency of his fine eyes, the dignified posture
of his healthy body, the lofty slope of his narrow forehead, the
perfectly humane look of his cultivated brutality, struck Shelton as
ridiculous.

"Hang it, Hall" he cried, jumping from his chair, "what an old fraud you
are! I'll be off."

"No, look here!" said Halidome; the faintest shade of doubt had appeared
upon his face; he took Shelton by a lapel: "You're quite wrong--"

"Very likely; good-night, old chap!"

Shelton walked home, letting the spring wind into him. It was Saturday,
and he passed many silent couples. In every little patch of shadow he