“I feel that very strongly about books,” said Kaye.  “There are certain authors, who have skill, charm, fancy, invention, style—­all the things you value—­who yet leave you absolutely cold.  They have every qualification for pleasing except the power to please.  It is simply a case of Dr. Fell!  You can’t give a single valid reason why you don’t like them.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Father Payne. “and then, again, there are authors whom you like at a certain age and under certain circumstances, and who end by boring you; and again, authors whom you don’t like when you are young, and like better when you are old.  Does your idea of loyalty apply also to books, Lestrange, or to music?”

“No,” said Lestrange, “to be frank, it does not; but I think that is different—­a lot of technical things come in, and then one’s taste alters.”

“And that is just the same with people,” said Father Payne.  “Why, what does loyalty mean in such a connection?  You have admired a book or a piece of music; you cease to admire it.  Are you to go on saying you admire it, or to pretend to yourself that you admire it?  Of course not—­that is simply hypocrisy—­there is nothing real about that.”

“But what are you to do,” said Vincent, “about people?  You can’t treat them like books or music.  You need not go on reading a book which you have ceased to admire.  But what if you have made a friend, and then ceased to care for him, and he goes on caring for you?  Are you to throw him over?”

“I admit that there is a difficulty,” said Father Payne; “I agree that you must not disappoint people; but it is also somehow your duty to get out of a relation that is no longer a real one.  It can’t be wholesome to simulate emotions for the sake of loyalty.  It must all depend upon which you think the finer thing—­the emotion or the tie.  Personally, I think the emotion is the more sacred of the two.”

“But does it not mean that you have made a mistake somehow,” said Vincent, “if you have made a friend, and then cease to care about him?”

“Not a bit,” said Father Payne.  “Why, people change very much, and some people change faster than others.  A man may be exactly what you want at a certain time of life; he may be ahead of you in ideas, in qualities, in emotions; and what starts a friendship is the perception of something fine and desirable in another, which you admire and want to imitate.  But then you may outstrip your friend.  Take the case of an artist.  He may have an admiration for another artist, and gain much from him; but then he may go right ahead of him.  He can’t go on admiring and deferring out of mere loyalty.”

“But must there not be in every real friendship a purpose of continuance?” said Vincent.  “It surely is a very selfish sort of business, if you say to yourself, ’I will make friends with this man because I admire him now, but when, I have got all I can out of him, I will discard him.’”