t remember," he said quickly, "that though the estate is
recovering, and rents have been fairly paid about here during the last
eighteen months, you may be called upon at any moment to make the
reductions which hampered your uncle. These reductions will, of course,
fall upon you as before, seeing that the farmers, in a different way,
will be paying as much as before. Have you left margin enough?"

"I think so," she said eagerly. "I shall live here very simply, and
accumulate all the reserve fund I can. I have set all my heart upon it.
I know there are not many people _could_ do such a thing--other
obligations would, must, come first. And it may turn out a mistake.
But--whatever happens--whatever any of us, Socialists or not, may hope
for in the future--here one _is_ with one's conscience, and one's money,
and these people, who like oneself have but the one life? In all labour,
it is the modern question, isn't it?--_how much_ of the product of
labour the workman can extract from the employer? About here there is no
union to act for the labourers--they have practically no power. But _in
the future_, we must surely _hope_ they will combine, that they will be
stronger--strong enough to _force_ a decent wage. What ought to prevent
my free will anticipating a moment--since I _can_ do it--that we all
want to see?"

She spoke with a strong feeling; but his ear detected a new
note--something deeper and wistfuller than of old.

"Well--as you say, you are for experiments!" he replied, not finding it
easy to produce his own judgment quickly. Then, in another tone--"it was
always Hallin's cry."

She glanced up at him, her lips trembling.

"I know. Do you remember how he used to say--'the big changes may
come--the big Collectivist changes. But neither you nor I will see them.
I pray _not_ to see them. Meanwhile--all still hangs upon, comes back
to, the individual, Here are you with your money and power; there are
those men and women whom you can share with--in new and honourable
ways--_to-day_.'"

Then she checked herself suddenly.

"But now I want you to tell me--will you tell me?--all the objections
you see. You must often have thought such things over."

She was looking nervously straight before her. She did not see the flash
of half-bitter, half-tender irony that crossed his face. Her tone of
humility, of appeal, was so strange to him, remembering the past.

"Yes, very often," he answered. "Well, I think these are the k