imaginary supernatural beings were all in the last resort developed
out of ghosts, hostile or friendly; and from what I see abroad, I
incline to agree with them. But this mourning superstition, now--
surely it must do a great deal of harm in poor households in
England. People who can very ill afford to throw away good dresses
must have to give them up, and get new black ones, and that often
at the very moment when they're just deprived of the aid of their
only support and bread-winner. I wonder it doesn't occur to them
that this is absolutely wrong, and that they oughtn't to prefer the
meaningless fetich to their clear moral duty."

"They're afraid of what people would say of them," Frida ventured
to interpose. "You see, we're all so frightened of breaking through
an established custom."

"Yes, I notice that always, wherever I go in England," Bertram
answered. "There's apparently no clear idea of what's right and
wrong at all, in the ethical sense, as apart from what's usual. I
was talking to a lady up in London to-day about a certain matter I
may perhaps mention to you by-and-by when occasion serves, and she
said she'd been 'always brought up to think' so-and-so. It seemed
to me a very queer substitute indeed for thinking."

"I never thought of that," Frida answered slowly. "I've said the
same thing a hundred times over myself before now; and I see how
irrational it is. But, there, Mr. Ingledew, that's why I always
like talking with you so much: you make one take such a totally new
view of things."

She looked down and was silent a minute. Her breast heaved and