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"It's only a pretence," said Jack. "They're all other people's. Unless they're made up for the occasion, in which case they're nobody's."

"When you say one thing, and somebody else says the opposite, what happens?" asked Patricia, directly interrogating Monty, and feeling bold in the action.

"I? Oh, the other person's wrong, of course," rejoined Monty, easily.

"Is there no argument?"

"Oh, no!" Monty's "Oh" was merely a quick intaking of the breath.

"It's ill-bred," sneered Jack. "In the æsthetic world there's no argument at all. One just slangs everybody else behind their backs."

"Are you quite well, Penton?" archly inquired Monty. His question made Jack grin, but not altogether with amiability. "I thought you might be ailing."

"Why is it that anybody who speaks the truth is always suspect?" asked Jack, vigorously. "It's extraordinary to me."

"It's because you live in the material world of unreality, my dear Penton. Once you realise that art is the fundamental principle of life, you'll take yourself less seriously."