would confine manhood suffrage to state and national
elections."

Leigh was struck by these words into silence. For the first time she
had made him realise that she was a rich woman, though he had heard
from Cardington that the bishop merely held his wife's large property
in trust for the daughter. Now he detected in her a shrewd and
practical strain, perhaps an inheritance from some ancestor who had
laid the foundations of her fortune. He saw also that her revolt
against the moribund spirituality of the wealthy class to which she
belonged was offset by a consciousness of possession, so that she could
support Emmet one moment and condemn his theories the next. On one
side of their natures, Leigh and Miss Wycliffe touched in sympathetic
understanding; on the other, they were as far apart as the poles. No
poor man, however civilised he may be, can range himself on the side of
wealth, unless he is either a fortune hunter or a sycophant, and Leigh
was neither. At the present moment he merely felt, with a sinking of
spirit, the existence of an artificial barrier between them of which he
had previously been but dimly conscious.

"I 'm something of a socialist myself," he said, "only, I 'm waiting
for a great leader and a reasonable propaganda."

"You 'll never find either," she retorted with spirit. Then her face
softened into the expression of a listener to a good story. "But don't
let us discuss these endless and stupid questions. What I want is the
personal and spectacular side of it. How did the two men compare? And
with which of them did the people side?"

"With their own representative, naturally. I was impressed with the
tenseness of the feeling. The audience cheered Emmet until he had to
remind them that they were cutting into his twenty-minute allowance.
Then they kept silent, but more like animals held in leash, I thought,
and I could n't help wondering what would happen if the cork should
suddenly pop off and let out all that bottled sense of ill usage. When
Judge Swigart got up, he did n't mend matters by referring continually
to Emmet as his 'distinguished antagonist,' in a tone that suggested
irony rather than respect. He said he was pained and astonished to
hear Mr. Emmet declare that there was class feeling in Warwick; he
himself had never detected any; he objected to the setting off of
aristocrat against democrat, when all were democratic; he denied that
the city was run by a clique."

"R