. I get most thrill out of throwing myself into the
workmen's war--much more than I could ever get, you will admit, out of
dancing attendance on my very respectable cousins. My mother taught me
to see everything dramatically. We have no drama in England at the
present moment worth a cent; so I amuse myself with this great
tragi-comedy of the working-class movement. It stirs, pricks, interests
me, from morning till night. I feel the great rough elemental passions
in it, and it delights me to know that every day brings us nearer to
some great outburst, to scenes and struggles at any rate that will make
us all look alive. I am like a child with the best of its cake to come,
but with plenty in hand already. Ah!--stay still a moment, Miss Boyce!"

To her amazement he stooped suddenly towards her; and she, looking down,
saw that a corner of her light, black dress, which had been overhanging
the low stone fender, was in flames, and that he was putting it out with
his hands. She made a movement to rise, alarmed lest the flames should
leap to her face--her hair. But he, releasing one hand for an instant
from its task of twisting and rolling the skirt upon itself, held her
heavily down.

"Don't move; I will have it out in a moment. You won't be burnt."

And in a second more she was looking at a ragged brown hole in her
dress; and at him, standing, smiling, before the fire, and wrapping a
handkerchief round some of the fingers of his left hand.

"You have burnt yourself, Mr. Wharton?"

"A little."

"I will go and get something--what would you like?"

"A little olive oil if you have some, and a bit of lint--but don't
trouble yourself."

She flew to find her mother's maid, calling and searching on her way for
Mrs. Boyce herself, but in vain. Mrs. Boyce had disappeared after
breakfast, and was probably helping her husband to dress.

In a minute or so Marcella ran downstairs again, bearing various
medicaments. She sped to the Stone Parlour, her cheek and eye glowing.

"Let me do it for you."

"If you please," said Wharton, meekly.

She did her best, but she was not skilful with her fingers, and this
close contact with him somehow excited her.

"There," she said, laughing and releasing him. "Of course, if I were a
work-girl I should have done it better. They are not going to be very
bad, I think."

"What, the burns? Oh, no! They will have recovered, I am afraid, long
before your dress."

"Oh, my dress! yes, it is dep