“If the one case is quite as likely to occur as the other (which I readily admit),” answered Sir Patrick, “I have surely a right to choose which case I please for illustration. (Wait, Mr. Delamayn!  These are the last words I have to say and I mean to say them.) I have taken the example—­not of a specially depraved man, as you erroneously suppose—­but of an average man, with his average share of the mean, cruel, and dangerous qualities, which are part and parcel of unreformed human nature—­as your religion tells you, and as you may see for yourself, if you choose to look at your untaught fellow-creatures any where.  I suppose that man to be tried by a temptation to wickedness, out of the common; and I show, to the best of my ability, how completely the moral and mental neglect of himself, which the present material tone of public feeling in England has tacitly encouraged, leaves him at the mercy of all the worst instincts in his nature; and how surely, under those conditions, he must go down (gentleman as he is) step by step—­as the lowest vagabond in the streets goes down under his special temptation—­from the beginning in ignorance to the end in crime.  If you deny my right to take such an example as that, in illustration of the views I advocate, you must either deny that a special temptation to wickedness can assail a man in the position of a gentleman, or you must assert that gentlemen who are naturally superior to all temptation are the only gentlemen who devote themselves to athletic pursuits.  There is my defense.  In stating my case, I have spoken out of my own sincere respect for the interests of virtue and of learning; out of my own sincere admiration for those young men among us who are resisting the contagion of barbarism about them.  In their future is the future hope of England.  I have done.”

Angrily ready with a violent personal reply, Geoffrey found himself checked, in his turn by another person with something to say, and with a resolution to say it at that particular moment.

For some little time past the surgeon had discontinued his steady investigation of Geoffrey’s face, and had given all his attention to the discussion, with the air of a man whose self-imposed task had come to an end.  As the last sentence fell from the last speaker’s lips, he interposed so quickly and so skillfully between Geoffrey and Sir Patrick, that Geoffrey himself was taken by surprise,

“There is something still wanting to make Sir Patrick’s statement of the case complete,” he said.  “I think I can supply it, from the result of my own professional experience.  Before I say what I have to say, Mr. Delamayn will perhaps excuse me, if I venture on giving him a caution to control himself.”

“Are you going to make a dead set at me, too?” inquired Geoffrey.

“I am recommending you to keep your temper—­nothing more.  There are plenty of men who can fly into a passion without doing themselves any particular harm.  You are not one of them.”