y, the state of the war, the state of his own
affairs, had produced in him a final ferment of resentment and
disgust which might explode in any folly.

Why not go to prison? He thought he could bear it. A man must stand
by his opinions--even through sacrifice. It would startle the public
into attention. Such outrages on the freedom, on the ancient rights
of Englishmen, must not pass without protest. Yes--he felt it in him
to be a martyr! They would hardly refuse him a pocket Homer in
prison.

What, a month? Three weeks, in actual practice. Luckily he cared
nothing at all about food--though he refused to be rationed by a
despotic Government. On a handful of dates and a bit of coarse bread
he had passed many a day of hard work when he was excavating in the
East. One can always starve--for a purpose! The Squire conceived
himself as out for Magna Charta--the root principles of British
liberty. As for those chattering fellows of the Labour Party, let
them conquer England if they could. While the Government ploughed up
his land without leave, the Socialists would strip him of it
altogether. Well, nothing for it but to _fight_! If one went down,
one went down--but at least honourably.

In the _Times_ that morning there was a report of a case in the
north, a landowner fined L100, for letting a farm go to waste for
the game's sake. And Miss Bremerton had been holding up the like
fate to him that morning--because of Holme Wood. A woman of parts
that!--too clever!--a disputatious creature, whom a man would like
to put down. But it wasn't easy; she slipped out of your grip--gave
you unexpected tits for tats. One would have thought after that
business with the will, she would be anxious to make up--to show
docility. In such a relation one expected docility. But not a bit of
it! She grew bolder. The Squire admitted uncomfortably that it was
his own fault--only, in fact, what he deserved for making a
land-agent, accountant, and legal adviser out of a poor lady who had
merely engaged herself to be his private secretary for classical
purposes.

All the same he confessed that she had never yet neglected the
classical side of her duties. His thoughts contrasted the library
and the collections as they were now, with what they had been a
couple of months before. Now he knew where books could be found; now
one could see the precious things he possessed. Her taste--her
neatness--her diligence--nothing could beat them. And she moved so