I
fancy that, later on, when he came to know their importance, he extended
the principle to quarter days. "Tidying up, and starting afresh," he
always called it.
I think as a young man he was better than most of us. But he lacked that
great gift which is the distinguishing feature of the English-speaking
race all the world over, the gift of hypocrisy. He seemed incapable of
doing the slightest thing without getting found out; a grave misfortune
for a man to suffer from, this.
Dear simple-hearted fellow, it never occurred to him that he was as other
men--with, perhaps, a dash of straightforwardness added; he regarded
himself as a monster of depravity. One evening I found him in his
chambers engaged upon his Sisyphean labour of "tidying up." A heap of
letters, photographs, and bills lay before him. He was tearing them up
and throwing them into the fire.
I came towards him, but he stopped me. "Don't come near me," he cried,
"don't touch me. I'm not fit to shake hands with a decent man."
It was the sort of speech to make one feel hot and uncomfortable. I did
not know what to answer, and murmured something about his being no worse
than the average.
"Don't talk like that," he answered excitedly; "you say that to comfort
me, I know; but I don't like to hear it.
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