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“Oh, him!— no, not actually. He’s self-conscious and selfish and hysterical. It isn’t a bit funny after a while.” “I only know what I’ve seen,” said Aaron. “You’d both of you like a bloody revolution, though.” “Yes. Only when it came he wouldn’t be there.” “Would you?” “Yes, indeed I would. I would give everything to be in it. I’d give heaven and earth for a great big upheaval — and then darkness.” “Perhaps you’ll get it, when you die,” said Aaron. “Oh, but I don’t want to die and leave all this standing. I hate it so.” “Why do you?” “But don’t you?” “No, it doesn’t really bother me.” “It makes me feel I can’t live.” “I can’t see that.” “But you always disagree with one!” said Josephine. “How do you like Lilly? What do you think of him?” “He seems sharp,” said Aaron. “But he’s more than sharp.” “Oh, yes! He’s got his finger in most pies.” “And doesn’t like the plums in any of them,” said Josephine tartly. “What does he do?” “Writes — stories and plays.” “And makes it pay?” “Hardly at all.— They want us to go. Shall we?” She rose from the table.