.. Don't you see it all?--perfectly reasonable every bit of it. I
should return, bruised and bloody, with the milk-can under my arm.
Yes, _I_ should have the milk-can--I should keep my eye on
that.... But why go on? You of all men should know that life is a
struggle for existence, a fight for food. Money is just the lie that
mitigates our fury."
"No," said Lewisham; "no! I'm not prepared to admit that."
"What _is_ money?"
Mr. Lewisham dodged. "You state your case first," he said. "I really
don't see what all this has to do with cheating at a _seance_."
"I weave my defence from this loom, though. Take some aggressively
respectable sort of man--a bishop, for example."
"Well," said Lewisham, "I don't much hold with bishops."
"It doesn't matter. Take a professor of science, walking the
earth. Remark his clothing, making a decent citizen out of him,
concealing the fact that physically he is a flabby, pot-bellied
degenerate. That is the first Lie of his being. No fringes round _his_
trousers, my boy. Notice his hair, groomed and clipped, the tacit lie
that its average length is half an inch, whereas in nature he would
wave a few score yard-long hairs of ginger grey to the winds of
heaven. Notice the smug suppressions of his face. In his mouth are
Lies in the shape of false teeth.
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