"I could punch the face of that ablest modern thinker," he said to himself. "For he's a liar. Peter is worth a thousand of him."
Out on the pitch of the slope, the tall figure, black against the shining channel, stood looking off at the mainland.
"But sometimes," said Archer to himself, "we build our happiness at the expense of others"—
A footstep grated lightly on the stone, and the scholar entered, looking fatigued.
"Ah, Mr. Archer," he said kindly, "you two young men have done very well by us, it seems, in some mysterious way."
"Not I, sir," said Archer. "I only brought this trouble on you. I'm sorry to give you all such a bad morning."
But his host's mind was already off the subject.
"I went down thinking to comfort that old fisherman about his son," he explained. "But I found it quite impossible, he is so violent in his grief. That was a fine saying of Solon's," he mused, "an heroic reply to the
