"Bob," said the Prophet, taking a very long time to light the cigar,
"what, in your opinion, is the exact meaning of the term honour?"
Mr. Green's cheerful, though slightly belated, face assumed an
expression of genial betwaddlement.
"Oh, well, Hen," he said, "exact meaning you know's not so easy.
But--hang it, we all understand the thing, eh, without sticking it down
in words. What?"
"I don't, Bob," rejoined the Prophet, in the tone of a man at odds with
several consciences. "In what direction does honour lie?"
"It don't lie at all, old chap," said Mr. Green, with the decided manner
which had made him so universally esteemed in yeomanry circles.
The Prophet began to look very much distressed.
"Look here, Bob, I'll put it in this way," he said. "Would an honourable
man feel bound to keep a promise?"
"Rather."
"Yes, but would he feel bound to keep two promises?"
"Rather, if he'd made 'em."
"Suppose he had!"
"Go ahead, Hen, I'm supposing," said Mr. Green, beginning to pucker
his brows and stare very hard indeed in the endeavour to keep the
supposition fixed firmly in his head.
"And, further, suppose that these two promises were diametrically
opposed to one another.
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