You will
still find, among the tales of that twentieth-century classic, Wells,
a story of a race of men who grew twice as big as their fellows, and
another story of a man who fell into the hands of a race of blind men.
The big people had to fight the little people for their lives; and the
man with eyes would have had his eyes put out by the blind had he not
fled to the desert, where he perished miserably. Wells's teaching, on
that and other matters, was not lost on me. By the way, he lent me five
pounds once which I never repaid; and it still troubles my conscience.
CONFUCIUS. And were you the only reader of Wells? If there were others
like you, had they not the same reason for keeping the secret?
THE ARCHBISHOP. That is true. But I should know. You short-lived people
are so childish. If I met a man of my own age I should recognize him at
once. I have never done so.
MRS LUTESTRING. Would you recognize a woman of your age, do you think?
THE ARCHBISHOP. I--[_He stops and turns upon her with a searching look,
startled by the suggestion and the suspicion it rouses_].
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