“We can’t alter the age we live in,” said Sir Richmond a little testily.

“No.  Exactly.  But we can realize, in any particular situation, that it is not the individuals to blame but the misfit of ideas and forms and prejudices.”

“No,” said Sir Richmond, obstinately rejecting this pacifying suggestion; “she could adapt herself.  If she cared enough.”

“But how?”

“She will not take the slightest trouble to adjust herself to the peculiarities of our position....  She could be cleverer.  Other women are cleverer.  Any other woman almost would be cleverer than she is.”

“But if she was cleverer, she wouldn’t be the genius she is.  She would just be any other woman.”

“Perhaps she would,” said Sir Richmond darkly and desperately.  “Perhaps she would.  Perhaps it would be better if she was.”

Dr. Martineau raised his eyebrows in a furtive aside.

“But here you see that it is that in my case, the fundamental incompatibility between one’s affections and one’s wider conception of duty and work comes in.  We cannot change social institutions in a year or a lifetime.  We can never change them to suit an individual case.  That would be like suspending the laws of gravitation in order to move a piano.  As things are, Martin is no good to me, no help to me.  She is a rival to my duty.  She feels that.  She is hostile to my duty.  A definite antagonism has developed.  She feels and treats fuel—­and everything to do with fuel as a bore.  It is an attack.  We quarrel on that.  It isn’t as though I found it so easy to stick to my work that I could disregard her hostility.  And I can’t bear to part from her.  I threaten it, distress her excessively and then I am overcome by sympathy for her and I go back to her....  In the ordinary course of things I should be with her now.”

“If it were not for the carbuncle?”

“If it were not for the carbuncle.  She does not care for me to see her disfigured.  She does not understand—­” Sir Richmond was at a loss for a phrase—­“that it is not her good looks.”

“She won’t let you go to her?”

“It amounts to that....  And soon there will be all the trouble about educating the girl.  Whatever happens, she must have as good a chance as—­anyone....”

“Ah!  That is worrying you too!”

“Frightfully at times.  If it were a boy it would be easier.  It needs constant tact and dexterity to fix things up.  Neither of us have any.  It needs attention....”

Sir Richmond mused darkly.

Dr. Martineau thought aloud.  “An incompetent delightful person with Martin Leeds’s sense of humour.  And her powers of expression.  She must be attractive to many people.  She could probably do without you.  If once you parted.”

Sir Richmond turned on him eagerly.

“You think I ought to part from her?  On her account?”

“On her account.  It might pain her.  But once the thing was done—­”