but we could collect enough ten…shilling bits from our own
pockets to string round a man's head for half an hour；
or one of Miss Hunt's gold bangles is nearly big enough to〃
The good…humoured Rosamund was almost choking with laughter。
〃All is not gold that glitters；〃 she said； 〃and besides〃
〃What a mistake that is！〃 cried Innocent Smith；
leaping up in great excitement。 〃All is gold that glitters
especially now we are a Sovereign State。 What's the good
of a Sovereign State if you can't define a sovereign？
We can make anything a precious metal； as men could in the morning
of the world。 They didn't choose gold because it was rare；
your scientists can tell you twenty sorts of slime much rarer。
They chose gold because it was brightbecause it was
a hard thing to find； but pretty when you've found it。
You can't fight with golden swords or eat golden biscuits；
you can only look at itan you can look at it out here。〃
With one of his incalculable motions he sprang back and burst open
the doors into the garden。 At the same time also； with one of his
gestures that never seemed at the instant so unconventional as they were；
he stretched out his hand to Mary Gray； and led her out on to the lawn
as if for a dance。
The French windows； thus flung open； let in an evening even lovelier than that
of the day before。 The west was swimming with sanguine colours； and a sort
of sleepy flame lay along the lawn。 The twisted shadows of the one or two
garden trees showed upon this sheen； not gray or black； as in common daylight；
but like arabesques written in vivid violet ink on some page of Eastern gold。
The sunset was one of those festive and yet mysterious conflagrations in
which common things by their colours remind us of costly or curious things。
The slates upon the sloping roof burned like the plumes of a vast peacock；
in every mysterious blend of blue and green。 The red…brown bricks of
the wall glowed with all the October tints of strong ruby and tawny wines。
The sun seemed to set each object alight with a different coloured flame；
like a man lighting fireworks； and even Innocent's hair； which was of a rather
colourless fairness； seemed to have a flame of pagan gold on it as he strode
across the lawn towards the one tall ridge of rockery。
〃What would be the good of gold；〃 he was saying； 〃if it did not glitter？
Why should we care for a black sovereign any more than for a
black sun at noon？ A black button would do just as well。
Don't you see that everything in this garden looks like a jewel？
And will you kindly tell me what the deuce is the good of a jewel
except that it looks like a jewel？ Leave off buying and selling；
and start looking！ Open your eyes； and you'll wake up in
the New Jerusalem。
〃All is gold that glitters
Tree and tower of brass；
Rolls the golden evening air
Down the golden grass。
Kick the cry to Jericho；
How yellow mud is sold；
All is gold that glitters；
For the glitter is the gold。〃
〃And who wrote that？〃 asked Rosamund； amused。
〃No one will ever write it；〃 answered Smith； and cleared the rockery
with a flying leap。
〃Really；〃 said Rosamund to Michael Moon； 〃he ought to be sent to an asylum。
Don't you think so？〃
〃I beg your pardon；〃 inquired Michael； rather sombrely； his long；
swarthy head was dark against the sunset； and； either by accident or mood；
he had the look of something isolated and even hostile amid the social
extravagance of the garden。
〃I only said Mr。 Smith ought to go to an asylum；〃 repeated the lady。
The lean face seemed to grow longer and longer； for Moon was
unmistakably sneering。 〃No；〃 he said； 〃I don't think it's
at all necessary。〃
〃What do you mean？〃 asked Rosamund quickly。 〃Why not？〃
〃Because he is in one now；〃 answered Michael Moon； in a quiet but ugly voice。
〃Why； didn't you know？〃
〃What？〃 cried the girl； and there was a break in her voice；
for the Irishman's face and voice were really almost creepy。
With his dark figure and dark sayings in all that sunshine
he looked like the devil in paradise。
〃I'm sorry；〃 he continued； with a sort of harsh humility。
〃Of course we don't talk about it much。。。 but I thought we
all really knew。〃
〃Knew what？〃
〃Well；〃 answered Moon； 〃that Beacon House is a certain rather singular
sort of housea house with the tiles loose； shall we say？ Innocent Smith
is only the doctor that visits us； hadn't you come when he called before？
As most of our maladies are melancholic； of course he has to be extra cheery。
Sanity； of course； seems a very bumptious eccentric thing to us。
Jumping over a wall； climbing a treethat's his bedside manner。〃
〃You daren't say such a thing！〃 cried Rosamund in a rage。
〃You daren't suggest that I〃
〃Not more than I am；〃 said Michael soothingly； 〃not more than the rest of us。
Haven't you ever noticed that Miss Duke never sits stilla notorious sign？
Haven't you ever observed that Inglewood is always washing his hands
a known mark of mental disease？ I； of course； am a dipsomaniac。〃
〃I don't believe you；〃 broke out his companion； not without agitation。
〃I've heard you had some bad habits〃
〃All habits are bad habits；〃 said Michael； with deadly calm。
〃Madness does not come by breaking out； but by giving in； by settling down
in some dirty； little； self…repeating circle of ideas； by being tamed。
YOU went mad about money； because you're an heiress。〃
〃It's a lie；〃 cried Rosamund furiously。 〃I never was mean about money。〃
〃You were worse；〃 said Michael； in a low voice and yet violently。
〃You thought that other people were。 You thought every man who came near
you must be a fortune…hunter； you would not let yourself go and be sane；
and now you're mad and I'm mad； and serve us right。〃
〃You brute！〃 said Rosamund； quite white。 〃And is this true？〃
With the intellectual cruelty of which the Celt is capable
when his abysses are in revolt； Michael was silent for
some seconds； and then stepped back with an ironical bow。
〃Not literally true； of course；〃 he said； 〃only really true。
An allegory； shall we say？ a social satire。〃
〃And I hate and despise your satires；〃 cried Rosamund Hunt；
letting loose her whole forcible female personality like a cyclone；
and speaking every word to wound。 〃I despise it as I despise
your rank tobacco； and your nasty； loungy ways； and your snarling；
and your Radicalism； and your old clothes； and your potty
little newspaper； and your rotten failure at everything。
I don't care whether you call it snobbishness or not； I like
life and success； and jolly things to look at； and action。
You won't frighten me with Diogenes； I prefer Alexander。〃
〃Victrix causa deae〃 said Michael gloomily； and this angered
her more； as； not knowing what it meant； she imagined it
to be witty。
〃Oh； I dare say you know Greek；〃 she said； with cheerful inaccuracy；
〃you haven't done much with that either。〃 And she crossed the garden；
pursuing the vanished Innocent and Mary。
In doing so she passed Inglewood； who was returning to the house slowly；
and with a thought…clouded brow。 He was one of those men who are
quite clever； but quite the reverse of quick。 As he came back
out of the sunset garden into the twilight parlour； Diana Duke
slipped swiftly to her feet and began putting away the tea things。
But it was not before Inglewood had seen an instantaneous picture so unique
that he might well have snapshotted it with his everlasting camera。
For Diana had been sitting in front of her unfinished work with her chin
on her hand； looking straight out of the window in pure thoughtless thought。
〃You are busy；〃 said Arthur； oddly embarrassed with what he had seen；
and wishing to ignore it。
〃There's no time for dreaming in this world；〃 answered the young lady
with her back to him。
〃I have been thinking lately；〃 said Inglewood in a low voice；
〃that there's no time for waking up。〃
She did not reply； and he walked to the window and looked out on the garden。
〃I don't smoke or drink； you know；〃 he said irrelevantly；
〃because I think they're drugs。 And yet I fancy all hobbies；
like my camera and bicycle； are drugs too。 Getting under a
black hood； getting into a dark roomgetting into a hole anyhow。
Drugging myself with speed； and sunshine； and fatigue； and fresh air。
Pedalling the machine so fast that I turn into a machine myself。
That's the matter with all of us。 We're too busy to wake up。〃
〃Well；〃 said the girl solidly； 〃what is there to wake up to？〃
〃There must be！〃 cried Inglewood； turning round in a singular
excitement〃there must be something to wake up to！
All we do is preparationsyour cleanliness； and my healthiness；
and Warner's scientific appliances。 We're always preparing
for somethingsomething that never comes off。 I ventilate
the house； and you sweep the house； but what is going to HAPPEN
in the house？〃
She was looking at him quietly； but with very bright eyes；
and seemed to be searching for some form of words which she
could not find。
Before she could speak the door burst open； and the boisterous Rosamund Hunt；
in her flamboyant white hat； boa； and parasol； stood framed in the door