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"
And
you
say
you
're
a
weak
character
,
that
you
've
no
will
.
"
"
Not
a
bit
of
will
--
I
'm
a
slave
to
my
emotions
,
to
my
likes
,
to
my
hatred
of
boredom
,
to
most
of
my
desires
--
"
"
You
are
not
!
"
She
brought
one
little
fist
down
onto
the
other
.
"
You
're
a
slave
,
a
bound
helpless
slave
to
one
thing
in
the
world
,
your
imagination
.
"
"
You
certainly
interest
me
.
If
this
is
n't
boring
you
,
go
on
.
"
"
I
notice
that
when
you
want
to
stay
over
an
extra
day
from
college
you
go
about
it
in
a
sure
way
.
You
never
decide
at
first
while
the
merits
of
going
or
staying
are
fairly
clear
in
your
mind
.
You
let
your
imagination
shinny
on
the
side
of
your
desires
for
a
few
hours
,
and
then
you
decide
.
Naturally
your
imagination
,
after
a
little
freedom
,
thinks
up
a
million
reasons
why
you
should
stay
,
so
your
decision
when
it
comes
is
n't
true
.
It
's
biassed
.
"
"
Yes
,
"
objected
Amory
,
"
but
is
n't
it
lack
of
will-power
to
let
my
imagination
shinny
on
the
wrong
side
?
"
"
My
dear
boy
,
there
's
your
big
mistake
.
This
has
nothing
to
do
with
will-power
;
that
's
a
crazy
,
useless
word
,
anyway
;
you
lack
judgment
--
the
judgment
to
decide
at
once
when
you
know
your
imagination
will
play
you
false
,
given
half
a
chance
.
"
"
Well
,
I
'll
be
darned
!
"
exclaimed
Amory
in
surprise
,
"
that
's
the
last
thing
I
expected
.
"
Clara
did
n't
gloat
.
She
changed
the
subject
immediately
.
But
she
had
started
him
thinking
and
he
believed
she
was
partly
right
.
He
felt
like
a
factory-owner
who
after
accusing
a
clerk
of
dishonesty
finds
that
his
own
son
,
in
the
office
,
is
changing
the
books
once
a
week
.
His
poor
,
mistreated
will
that
he
had
been
holding
up
to
the
scorn
of
himself
and
his
friends
,
stood
before
him
innocent
,
and
his
judgment
walked
off
to
prison
with
the
unconfinable
imp
,
imagination
,
dancing
in
mocking
glee
beside
him
.
Clara
's
was
the
only
advice
he
ever
asked
without
dictating
the
answer
himself
--
except
,
perhaps
,
in
his
talks
with
Monsignor
Darcy
.
How
he
loved
to
do
any
sort
of
thing
with
Clara
!
Shopping
with
her
was
a
rare
,
epicurean
dream
.
In
every
store
where
she
had
ever
traded
she
was
whispered
about
as
the
beautiful
Mrs.
Page
.
