John’s imagination, though it was so full of other matters, was affected more than he could understand by his strange visitor. He felt himself going back a hundred times in the course of the evening to this man, and those curious sophistries which he produced, always with that half smile in his eyes, as if he himself saw the absurdity in them, and as if morals and reason were something outside of himself to be treated with entire impartiality. John wondered how far he believed or disbelieved what he had been saying, and whether these dispassionate discussions of what was formally right or wrong took away from a conscience, which could not be very delicate or sensitive, anything of the burde…
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