ntemplation of our elegant persons, exquisite manners, and refined
tastes. They might provide against that loss by picking out a few of
us to keep for ornament's sake. No nation with a sense of beauty would
banish Lady Brandon, or Miss Lindsay, or Miss Wylie."

"Such nonsense!" said Jane.

"You would hardly believe how much I have spent in sending workmen out
of the country against my own view of the country's interest," continued
Trefusis, addressing Erskine. "When I make a convert among the working
classes, the first thing he does is to make a speech somewhere declaring
his new convictions. His employer immediately discharges him--'gives
him the sack' is the technical phrase. The sack is the sword of the
capitalist, and hunger keeps it sharp for him. His shield is the law,
made for the purpose by his own class. Thus equipped, he gives the worst
of it to my poor convert, who comes ruined to me for assistance. As I
cannot afford to pension him for life, I get rid of him by assisting him
to emigrate. Sometimes he prospers and repays me; sometimes I hear no
more of him; sometimes he comes back with his habits unsettled. One
man whom I sent to America made his fortune, but he was not a social
democrat; he was a clerk who had embezzled, and who applied to me for
assistance under the impression that I considered it rather meritorious
to rob the till of a capitalist."

"He was a practical Socialist, in fact," said Erskine.

"On the contrary, he was a somewhat too grasping Individualist. Howbeit,
I enabled him to make good his defalcation--in the city they consider a
defalcation made good when the money is replaced--and to go to New York.
I recommended him not to go there; but he knew better than I, for
he made a fortune by speculating with money that existed only in the
imagination of those with whom he dealt. He never repaid me; he is
probably far too good a man of business to pay money that cannot be
extracted from him by an appeal to the law or to his commercial credit.
Mr. Erskine," added Trefusis, lowering his voice, and turning to the
poet, "you are wrong to take part with hucksters and money-hunters
against your own nature, even though the attack upon them is led by a
man who prefers photography to etching."

"But I assure you--You quite mistake me," said Erskine, taken aback.
"I--"

He stopped, looked to Sir Charles for support, and then said airily:
"I don't doubt that you are quite right. I hate business and m