 and more than criticizing him for the
inhuman numbness of sentiment which offered up his worshipper to point a
complimentary comparison, she was able to imagine a distance whence it would be
possible to observe him uncritically, kindly, admiringly; as the moon a handsome
mortal, for example.
    In the midst of her thoughts, she surprised herself by saying, »I certainly
was difficult to instruct. I might see things clearer if I had a fine ability. I
never remember to have been perfectly pleased with my immediate lesson ...«
    She stopped, wondering whither her tongue was leading her; then added, to
save herself, »And that may be why I feel for poor Crossjay.«
    Mr. Whitford apparently did not think it remarkable that she should have
been set off gabbling of »a fine ability,« though the eulogistic phrase had been
pronounced by him with an impressiveness to make his ear aware of an echo.
    Sir Willoughby dispersed her vapourish confusion. »Exactly,« he said. »I
have insisted with Vernon, I don't know how often, that you must have the lad by
his affections. He won't bear driving. It had no effect on me. Boys of spirit
kick at it. I think I know boys, Clara.«
    He found himself addressing eyes that regarded him as though he were a small
speck, a pin's head, in the circle of their remote contemplation. They were
wide; they closed.
    She opened them to gaze elsewhere.
    He was very sensitive.
    Even then, when knowingly wounding him, or because of it, she was trying to
climb back to that altitude of the thin division of neutral ground, from which
we see a lover's faults and are above them, pure surveyors. She climbed
unsuccessfully, it is true; soon despairing and using the effort as a pretext to
fall back lower.
    Dr. Middleton withdrew Sir Willoughby's attention from the imperceptible
annoyance:
    »No, sir, no; the birch! the birch! Boys of spirit commonly turn into solid
men, and the solider the men the more surely do they vote for Busby. For me, I
pray he may be immortal in Great Britain. Sea-air nor mountain-air is half so
bracing. I venture to say that the power to take a licking is better worth
having than the power to administer one. Horse him and birch him if Crossjay
runs from his books.«
    »It is your opinion, sir?« his host bowed to him affably, shocked on behalf
of the ladies.
    »So
