If I follow it I shall gradually lose the preposterous habit of blaming, and I shall have laid the foundations of that quiet, unshakable self-possession which is the indispensable preliminary of conduct according to reason, of thorough efficiency in the machine of happiness. But something in me, something distinctly base, says: 'Yes. The put-yourself-in-his-place business over again!
Even Robinson himself enlists no particular sympathy except of the "put-yourself-in-his-place" kind. This, as has been said, is the mystery of fiction a mystery partly set a-working in the mediæval romance, then mostly lost, and now recovered in his own way and according to his own capacity by Defoe.