Ernest was lazily stretching himself on a couch, waving the smoke of
his cigarette to Reginald, who was writing at his desk.
"Your friend Jack is delightful," Reginald remarked, looking up from his
papers. "And his ebon-coloured hair contrasts prettily with the gold in
yours. I should imagine that you are temperamental antipodes."
"So we are; but friendship bridges the chasm between."
"How long have you known him?"
"We have been chums ever since our sophomore year."
"What attracted you in him?"
"It is no simple matter to define exactly one's likes and dislikes. Even
a tiny protoplasmic animal appears to be highly complex under the
microscope. How can we hope to analyse, with any degree of certitude,
our souls, especially when, under the influence of feeling, we see as
through a glass darkly."
"It is true that personal feeling colours our spectacles and distorts
the perspective. Still, we should not shrink from self-analysis. We must
learn to see clearly into our own hearts if we would give vitality to
our work.
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