nto a shady place, Mr.
Egremont.'

His way of handling the oars showed that he was no stranger to exercise
of this kind. His frame, though a trifle meagre, was well set. By
degrees a preoccupation which had been manifest in him gave way under
the influence of the sky, and when it was time to approach the
landing-place he had fallen into a mood of cheerful talk--light with
Paula, with Annabel more earnest. His eyes often passed from one to the
other of the faces opposite him, with unmarked observation; frequently
he fixed his gaze on the remoter hills in brief musing.

Mr. Newthorpe had come down to the water to meet them; he had a
newspaper in his hand.

'Your friend Dalmaine is eloquent on education,' he said, with a
humorous twitching of the eyebrows.

'Yes, he knows his House,' Egremont replied. 'You observe the
construction of his speech. After well-sounding periods on the
elevation of the working classes, he casually throws out the hint that
employers of labour will do wisely to increase the intelligence of
their hands in view of foreign competition. Of course that is the root
of the matter; but Dalmaine knows better than to begin with crude
truths.'

In the meanwhile the boat was drawn up and the chain locked. The girls
walked on in advance; Egremont continued to speak of Mr. Dalmaine, a
rising politician, whose acquaintance he had made on the voyage home
from New York.

'One of the few sincere things I ever heard from his lips was a remark
he made on trade-unions. "Let them combine by all means," he said;
"it's a fair fight." There you have the man; it seems to him mere
common sense to regard his factory hands as his enemies. A fair fight!
What a politico-economical idea of fairness!'

He spoke with scorn, his eyes flashing and his nostrils trembling. Mr.
Newthorpe kept a quiet smile--sympathetic, yet critical.

Annabel sought her father for a word apart before lunch.

'How long will Mr. Egremont stay?' she asked, apparently speaking in
her quality of house-mistress.

'A day or two,' was the reply. 'We'll drive over to Pooley Bridge for
his bag this afternoon; he left it at the hotel.'

'What has he on his mind?' she continued, smiling.

'Some idealistic project. He has only given me a hint. I dare say we
shall hear all about it to-night.'

CHAPTER II

THE IDEALIST

When Egremont began his acquaintance with the Newthorpes he was an
Oxford undergraduate. A close friendship had sprung u