go to the Arbitration only as a subordinate. Blent apart, the offer was
valuable to him as a sign of Disney's appreciation rather than on its
own account.

He went home and wrote to Iver. The letter weighed all considerations
save the one which really weighed with him; he put himself fairly in
Iver's hands but did not conceal his own wish; he knew that if Iver were
against the idea on solid business grounds, he would not be affected by
Harry's personal preference. But the business reasons, when examined,
did not seem very serious, and Harry thought that he would get leave to
go. He rose from his writing with a long sigh. If he received the answer
he expected, he was at the parting of the ways; and he had chosen the
path that led directly and finally away from Blent.

An evening paper was brought to him. A tremendous headline caught his
notice. "Resignation of Lord Hove! He will not arbitrate about
Barililand. Will the Government break up?" Probably not, thought Harry;
and it was odd to reflect that, if Lord Hove had got his way, he would
have lost his heroic remedy. So great things and small touch and
intersect one another. Perhaps Theo (who could now settle that question
about the kicking with his friends) would maintain that Flora Disney had
talked too much to Harry at dinner, instead of taking all pains to
soothe Lord Hove!

It was his last struggle; he had no doubt that he could win, but the
fight was very fierce. Impatient of his quiet rooms, he went out into
the crowded streets. At first he found himself envying everybody he
passed--the cabman on his box, the rough young fellows escaped from the
factory, the man who sold matches and had no cares beyond food and a
bed. But presently he forgot them all and walked among shadows. He was
at Blent in spirit, sometimes with Addie Tristram, sometimes with
Cecily. His imagination undid what his hand had done; he was smiling
again at the efforts of Duplay to frighten or to displace him. Thus he
would be happy for a moment, till reality came back and a dead dulness
settled on his soul. Half afraid of himself, he turned round and made
for home again; he could not be sure of his self-control. But again he
mastered that, and again paced the streets, now in a grim resolution to
tire mind and body, so that these visions should have nothing to work on
and, finding blank unresponsive weariness, should go their ways and
leave him in an insensible fatigue. Ever since he disclaimed