A Man and a Sphinx

The idea of leaving England had occurred to Tyson more than once before.
In Stanistreet's rooms it took its first vague shape. But Louis's parting
words had a sting in them; they were at once a shock to his feelings and
a challenge to his will.

Stanistreet had read him thoroughly. In plain language he had entertained
serious thoughts of deserting Mrs. Nevill Tyson. Desertion? It was an
ugly word. He dismissed his idea. He would dree his weird. He wasn't
going to funk the thing--not he! The New Life had been found impossible.
No matter. Certum quia impossibile. Nothing like a big thumping paradox
when you were about it. Impossibility had the smile and lure of haunting
deity, the glamor of the arcana. That night he dedicated himself with
more promises and vows.

He was in that state of mind when men look out for miracles to save them.
There was no reason why miracles should not happen, here and now. Those
fellows must have been in a bad way who had to go out into deserts and
places to find God and their unconquerable souls. No doubt queer things
have happened in Africa, in Asia, things which the Western mind--Pending
the miracle, his Western mind would seek peace in an office. He would try
anything, from a Government appointment to a clerkship in the Bank. After
all they do not manage things so very differently in the East. If you
come to think of it, there is not much to choose between bending yourself
double over a desk and sitting with your head in the pit of your stomach,
meditating on Brahma. The effect on the liver must be pretty much the
same.