discussed in every aspect our conception of a life tremendously

focussed upon the ideal of social service.

Most clearly there stands out a picture ofourselves talking in a

gondola on our way to Torcella. Far away behind us the smoke of

Muranoforms a black stain upon an immense shining prospect of

smooth water, water as unruffled and luminous as the sky above, a

mirror on which rows of posts and distant black high-stemmed, swan-

necked boats with their minutely clear swinging gondoliers, float

aerially. Remote and low before us rises the little tower of our

destination. Our men swing together and their oars swirl leisurely

through the water, hump back in the rowlocks, splash sharply and go

swishing back again. Margaret lies back on cushions, with her face

shaded by a holland parasol, and I sit up beside her.

"Yousee," I say, and in spite of Margaret's note of perfect

acquiescence Ifeelmyself reasoning against an indefinable

antagonism, "it is so easy to fall into a slack way with life.

There may seem to be something priggish in a meticulous discipline,

but otherwise it is so easy to slip into indolent habits-and to be

distracted from one's purpose. The country, the world, wants men to

serve its constructive needs, to work out and carry out plans. For

a man who has to make a living the enemy is immediate necessity; for

people likeourselves it's-it's the constant small opportunity of

agreeable things."

"Frittering away," she says, "time and strength."

"That is what Ifeel. It's sopleasant to pretend one is simply

modest, it looks so foolish at times to take one'sself too

seriously. We've GOT to takeourselves seriously."

She endorses my words with her eyes.

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