"Or else we may not want to fight at all," answered Evan, and the
end of his speech was like a despairing cry.

Turnbull took out his own sword suddenly as if to engage; then
planting it point downwards for a moment, he said, "Before we
begin, may I ask you a question?"

MacIan bowed patiently, but with burning eyes.

"You said, just now," continued Turnbull, presently, "that if we
did not fight now, we might not want to fight at all. How would
you feel about the matter if we came not to want to fight at
all?"

"I should feel," answered the other, "just as I should feel if
you had drawn your sword, and I had run away from it. I should
feel that because I had been weak, justice had not been done."

"Justice," answered Turnbull, with a thoughtful smile, "but we
are talking about your feelings. And what do you mean by justice,
apart from your feelings?"

MacIan made a gesture of weary recognition! "Oh, Nominalism," he
said, with a sort of sigh, "we had all that out in the twelfth
century."

"I wish we could have it out now," replied the other, firmly. "Do
you really mean that if you came to think me right, you would be
certainly wrong?"