e matter with England, except that we of the
titled class have had a tumble and are as poor as the devil. But then
some other class has--"

"Stop, Ripon! It is unworthy of you to slight the dignity of England's
nobility, however poor we may be."

"_We!_ Why, hang it, Dacre, do I not count myself in? And I do not speak
slightingly. I fear I have no class, and therefore no prejudices. I was
too young to be a conscious aristocrat before the Revolution, and now I
am too old to be a thorough Communist. But go on, Dacre, I know you have
something to propose."

Even Dacre's enthusiasm cooled for a moment before the odd calmness of
Geoffrey, who was, as he himself surmised, a man almost without a class
and undisturbed by the hopes, fears or prejudices of those who have one.

Dacre walked to and fro with folded arms, while Geoffrey, slipping into
his old jacket, which he had been rather surprised to find wrapped round
his ancestor's sword, busied himself with the kettle and a bottle he had
taken from a cupboard.

"Listen, Ripon--" said Dacre.

"Hold on, hold on, mine ancient friend," said the preoccupied Geoffrey,
pouring hot water on the sugar in two glasses; "there's nothing like
Irish whiskey when you're talking treason."

"Ah, Geoffrey," said Dacre, sadly, as the friends clinked their glasses,
"men can live treason as well as talk it."

"Is that confession or reproach?"

"Reproach, Ripon. The life you live is daily treason to your country.
You sit idly by while England descends from the heights of her renown
and is clothed in the rags of the banditti who have obtained power over
her."

"Banditti--who? The Republicans?"

"Republicans or Anarchists, whatever they be called; the blind and
immoral mob that has been misled by wretches to destroy their
motherland."

"Look here, Dacre, do you really mean to say that Republicanism is
immoral and unnatural?"

"Certainly; that is just what I mean."

"But look at America--the happiest, richest, most orderly and yet the
most populous country in the world."

"I speak of Republicanism in England, not in America."

"But where is the difference?" persisted Geoffrey. "If the universal
suffrage of the people be virtue in America, how can it be vice in
England?"

"As the food of one life may be the poison of another," answered Dacre.
"Human society has many forms, and all may be good, but each must be
specially protected by its own public morality. England was reared int