me than the contrary belief implies."

"That's just where you're mistaken," said Cashel, obstinately. "I
haven't got a low opinion of you at all. There's such a thing as
being too clever."

"You may not know that it is a low opinion. Nevertheless, it is so."

"Well, have it your own way. I'm wrong again; and you're right."

"So far from being gratified by that, I had rather that we were both
in the right and agreed. Can you understand that?"

"I can't say I do. But I give in to it. What more need you care
for?"

"I had rather you understood. Let me try to explain. You think that
I like to be cleverer than other people. You are mistaken. I should
like them all to know whatever I know."

Cashel laughed cunningly, and shook his head. "Don't you make any
mistake about that," he said. "You don't want anybody to be quite as
clever as yourself; it isn't in human nature that you should. You'd
like people to be just clever enough to show you off--to be worth
beating. But you wouldn't like them to be able to beat you. Just
clever enough to know how much cleverer you are; that's about the
mark. Eh?"

Lydia made no further effort to enlighten him. She looked at him
thoughtfully, and said, slowly, "I begin to hold the clew to your