Tory paper, and then start a conscience and flout compromise, is the richest thing I ever heard of."

"Why shouldn't there be absolutely honest papers?" Rudd asked.

"Who is to write them?" Luard asked. "Where are the absolutely honest men? There's no such thing, except possibly on a desert island. How could there be? It was because honesty was impossible that compromise came in. Compromise is the sure ground between the quicksands of conscience and the truth. I suppose you think me as immoral as yourself for editing the bally paper at all."

"But you're on that side," said Rudd.

"Yes, but I'm not quite so lost to reason as to think everything they do perfect, and everything the others do poisonous; and yet I let that impression get out. Do you consider me an outcast in consequence?"

"Of course not," said Rudd; "there are degrees." "You are compromising," said Luard.

"I mean that you're more a Tory than a Liberal," said Rudd, "and therefore it is not so cynical of you as it would be for me, who am more a Liberal than Tory."

"But you don't mind writing non-political things for the paper and taking its money?" said Luard. "No," said Rudd.

"More compromise," said Luard. "You are getting on a dangerous tack for yourself as the complete letter-writer. Your attitude now is that a little compromise is all right, but too much is wicked. Well,

that is the whole secret. The duty before every citizen is to decide for himself how little compromise he can do with. Having decided that, if he prescribes a slender enough allowance and does not exceed it he will go to heaven; if he employs too much he is a scoundrel."

"I don't know that I go in for it at all," said Rudd.

"My dear fellow," said Luard, "for goodness' sake clear your eyes. Why, you are compromising all the time. Your letter to me was a compromise. If you had really felt as you say you would have resigned. Your willingness to go on is compromise. When you said just now that the steak was enough done for you, you compromised, because I know you like it much less red. To be as much in civilization as you are, and to be getting on so well, proves that you are a master of compromise."

"How beastly!" said Rudd.

"Not at all," said Luard. "How sensible and normal. All the same, you won't be asked to write another leader, don't fear."

Rudd felt no elation at the decision.

"I hope it's wholly because of that rotten letter," he said, a new suspicion darting into his brain.

"I shan't tell you," said Luard. "No," he added, "we'll go on as we were. Stick to your odds and ends. And," he continued, "stick to your convictions as to personal integrity as long as you can. They're all right so long as you don't exalt them on too high

a pedestal, and deposit too many wreaths before them. But they're more important in real life than in party journalism. It's quite easy to keep political depravity in a water-tight compartment and to be a gentleman the rest of the time. Remember that. I don't care how many leaders you write giving your old Liberal idols beans; but never tell a girl you love her if you don't. That's much more a test of character."

"There's one thing that puzzles me about all this," said Luard in conclusion, "and that is why, with feelings like yours, you brought yourself to write the article at all. Why didn't you tell me all this yesterday?"

"Because," said Rudd, "it takes me a long time to collect myself in any given emergency. Besides," he added, “a man often has to go wrong before he can go right."

On the next Saturday Rudd found the extra guinea for his leader in his little envelope. His original idea had been to return it, but Luard's homily had changed that intention. He could not, however, he felt, keep it, and therefore compromised by sending it anonymously to St. Stephen's Hospital.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE WEDDING

AFTER several attempts to be let off, which were

all in vain, Rudd consented to act as best man for Doran, whom he had not seen since his Hospital days. Doran he had always liked for his simplicity and good-humour and unselfishness, and his letters were now so warm in their protestations of friendship and wishes that Rudd, and Rudd only, should support him on this most sacred and eventful moment of his life, that it would have been hard for even a strong-minded person to say no. Rudd was not exactly weak-minded, but he always said no with difficulty.

There are, for retiring dispositions, sufficient objections to all weddings, even when one attends purely as an invited observer, and until invitation cards bear the words, "No presents, by request," one of these objections will persist. With many people, however, even more irksome is the problem of clothes. A present can reduce itself to a matter of writing a cheque; whereas new clothes have to be tried on and worn. Some day, perhaps, the cards will also add, "Old

clothes, by request," and then how simple life will be! Upon these two difficulties was superimposed, in Rudd's case, anxiety as to a best man's duties. Having inquired from those who knew, he ascertained that not only should he buy gifts for both the bridegroom, of whom to-day he knew very little, not having seen Doran for long, while the bride, save for certain modern indications, he did not know from Eve, but that the acquisition of railway tickets and the distribution of tips fell to his lot too. Some bridegrooms, he was told, were scrupulous to repay the sums thus disbursed, but others had been known to forget, either because they made forgetfulness in such matters a cult (as men can), or from the obliterative effects of so momentous and crowded a day.

Best men really out to do the thing well, Rudd was further told, gave presents to the bridesmaids too, and very often ultimately married one of them. Jolly information for the diffident and not too rich.

Having at last had yes wrung from him, with a tardiness which no sensitive bridegroom would have tolerated (although it must be admitted that his is a period in a man's life when his good fortune-his astounding luck-the friendly operations of his star, setting him gloriously apart from all other malescan stand between himself and the finer perceptions), Rudd was plunged into an agony of reluctance from which he never emerged until after the ceremony.

His preliminary misgivings were not diminished by learning that the bride lived, or rather resided, at