“He turned very red.  ‘I wish, my dear Mac,’ he said, ’you would pay me the compliment of not mistaking me for that detestable little cad with whom I have the misfortune to be connected.  You would greatly oblige me if next time he attempts to inflict upon you his vulgar drivel you would kindly kick him downstairs.’

“‘No doubt,’ he added, with a sneer, as we walked on, ’Miss Trevior would be his ideal.  She is exactly the type of woman, I should say, to charm that type of man.  For myself, I do not appreciate the artistic and literary female.’

“‘Besides,’ he continued, in a deeper tone, ’you know my feelings.  I shall never care for any other woman but Elizabeth.’

“‘And she?’ I said

“‘She,’ he sighed, ‘is breaking her heart for Smith.’

“‘Why don’t you tell her you are Smith?’ I asked.

“‘I cannot,’ he replied, ’not even to win her.  Besides, she would not believe me.’

“We said good-night at the corner of Bond Street, and I did not see him again till one afternoon late in the following March, when I ran against him in Ludgate Circus.  He was wearing his transition blue suit and bowler hat.  I went up to him and took his arm.

“‘Which are you?’ I said.

“‘Neither, for the moment,’ he replied, ’thank God.  Half an hour ago I was Smythe, half an hour hence I shall be Smith.  For the present half-hour I am a man.’

“There was a pleasant, hearty ring in his voice, and a genial, kindly light in his eyes, and he held himself like a frank gentleman.

“‘You are certainly an improvement upon both of them,’ I said.

“He laughed a sunny laugh, with just the shadow of sadness dashed across it.  ‘Do you know my idea of Heaven?’ he said.

“‘No,’ I replied, somewhat surprised at the question.

“‘Ludgate Circus,’ was the answer.  ’The only really satisfying moments of my life,’ he said, ’have been passed in the neighbourhood of Ludgate Circus.  I leave Piccadilly an unhealthy, unwholesome prig.  At Charing Cross I begin to feel my blood stir in my veins.  From Ludgate Circus to Cheapside I am a human thing with human feeling throbbing in my heart, and human thought throbbing in my brain—­with fancies, sympathies, and hopes.  At the Bank my mind becomes a blank.  As I walk on, my senses grow coarse and blunted; and by the time I reach Whitechapel I am a poor little uncivilised cad.  On the return journey it is the same thing reversed.’

“‘Why not live in Ludgate Circus,’ I said, ’and be always as you are now?’

“‘Because,’ he answered, ‘man is a pendulum, and must travel his arc.’

“‘My dear Mac,’ said he, laying his hand upon my shoulder, ’there is only one good thing about me, and that is a moral.  Man is as God made him:  don’t be so sure that you can take him to pieces and improve him.  All my life I have sought to make myself an unnaturally superior person.  Nature has retaliated by making me also an unnaturally inferior person.  Nature abhors lopsidedness.  She turns out man as a whole, to be developed as a whole.  I always wonder, whenever I come across a supernaturally pious, a supernaturally moral, a supernaturally cultured person, if they also have a reverse self.’