we not fear that their ideal is simply a shopkeeper
ready to shoot anyone who rivals him in trade? The finer qualities I
admit; but one distrusts the objects they serve."

"We are told," said Irene, "that England _must_ expand."

"Probably. But the mere necessity of the case must not become our law.
It won't do for a great people to say, 'Make room for us, and we
promise to set you a fine example of civilisation; refuse to make room,
and we'll blow your brains out!' One doubts the quality of the
civilisation promised."

Irene laughed, delighted with the vigour underlying the old lady's calm
and gentle habit of speech. Yet she was not convinced, though she
wished to be. A good many times she had heard in thought the suavely
virile utterances of Arnold Jacks; his voice had something that pleased
her, and his way of looking at things touched her imagination. She
wished these ladies knew Arnold Jacks, that she might ask their opinion
of him.

And yet, she felt she would rather not have asked it.

CHAPTER XI

From this retreat, Irene wrote to her cousin Olga Hannaford, and in the
course of the letter made inquiry whether anything was known at Ewell
about a severe illness that had befallen young Mr. Otway. Olga replied
that she had heard of no such event; that they had received no news at
all of Mr. Otway since his leaving England. This did not allay an
uneasiness which, in various forms, had troubled Irene ever since she
heard that her studious acquaintance had abandoned his ambitions and
gone back to commerce. A few weeks more elapsed, and--being now in
Scotland--she received a confirmation of what Arnold Jacks had
reported. Immediately on reaching Odessa, Piers Otway had fallen ill,
and for a time was in danger. Irene mused. She would have preferred not
to think of Otway at all, but often did so, and could not help it. A
certain reproach of conscience connected itself with his name. But as
time went on, and it appeared that the young man was settled to his
mercantile career in Russia, she succeeded in dismissing him from her
mind.

For the next three years she lived with her father in London; a life
pretty evenly divided between studies and the amusements of her world.

Dr. Derwent pursued his quiet activity. In a certain sphere he had
reputation; the world at large knew little or nothing of him. All he
aimed at was the diminution of human suffering; whether men thanked him
for his life's labour did not se