leaning back, with folded arms, and face a little uptilted. His knees
were straight and massive. She sighed, picked up the poker, and again
began to prod the fire, to rouse the clouds of soft, brilliant sparks.

'Isabel tells me,' Bertie began suddenly, 'that you have not suffered
unbearably from the loss of sight.'

Maurice straightened himself to attend, but kept his arms folded.

'No,' he said, 'not unbearably. Now and again one struggles against it,
you know. But there are compensations.'

'They say it is much worse to be stone deaf,' said Isabel.

'I believe it is,' said Bertie. 'Are there compensations?' he added, to
Maurice.

'Yes. You cease to bother about a great many things.' Again Maurice
stretched his figure, stretched the strong muscles of his back, and
leaned backwards, with uplifted face.

'And that is a relief,' said Bertie. 'But what is there in place of the
bothering? What replaces the activity?'

There was a pause. At length the blind man replied, as out of a
negligent, unattentive thinking:

'Oh, I don't know. There's a good deal when you're not active.'

'Is there?' said Bertie. 'What, exactly? It always seems to me that when