of, but a different self, formed according to ideals of my own. There
_would_ be a liberation!"

"Well," said Larcher, "if a man can't change to another self, he can at
least change his place and his way of life."

"But the old self is always there, casting its shadow on the new
place. And even change of scene and habits is next to impossible
without money."

"I must admit that New York, and my present way of life, are good enough
for me just now," said Larcher.

Davenport's only reply was a short laugh.

"Suppose you had the money, and could live as you liked, where would
_you_ go?" demanded Larcher, slightly nettled.

"I would live a varied life. Probably it would have four phases,
generally speaking, of unequal duration and no fixed order. For one
phase, the chief scene would be a small secluded country-house in an old
walled garden. There would be the home of my books, and the centre of my
walks over moors and hills. From this, I would transport myself, when
the mood came, to the intellectual society of some large city--that of
London would be most to my choice. Mind you, I say the _intellectual_
society; a far different thing from the Society that spells itself with
a capital S."

"Why not of New York? There's intellectual society here."