’ Gerald laughed. He wasn't quite hard enough to win worldly success; that was his fault. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. Besides, I acted for others, and not for myself. Presently McClintock came in. “I like to think of your offer. Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea.
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