rebelliously conscious of them--before he had even opened his lips. Her
own words sounded crude and unconvincing.

"I am not one of the flamboyant orators of the Socialist party, Lady
Elisabeth," he said, "nor am I one of those who are able to see much joy
or very much hopefulness in life under present conditions. For every
word I have spoken and every line I have written, I accept the full and
complete responsibility."

"Those men who were murdered in Chicago, murdered at your instigation
because they tried to break the strike--what of them?"

He looked at her as one might have looked at a child.

"Their lives were a necessary sacrifice in a good cause," he declared.
"Does one think now of the sea of blood through which France once purged
herself? Believe me, young lady, there is nothing in the world more to
be avoided than this sentimental and exaggerated reverence for life. It
is born of a false ideal, artistically and actually. Life is a
sacrifice to be offered in a just cause when necessary.

"I imagine that this is your uncle."

Mr. Foley was standing upon the threshold of the room, his hand
outstretched, his thin, long face full of conviction.

"My niece has succeeded in discovering you, then, Mr. Maraton," he
said. "I am glad."

Maraton smiled as he shook hands.

"I have certainly had the pleasure of making your niece's acquaintance,"
he admitted. "We have had quite an interesting discussion."

Elisabeth turned away without looking towards him.

"I will leave Mr. Maraton to you, uncle," she said. "He will tell you
that I have been very candid indeed. We were coming face to face with
Mr. Culvain, so I brought him in here."

She did not glance again in Maraton's direction, nor did she offer him
any form of farewell salutation. Mr. Foley frowned slightly as he
glanced after her. Maraton, too, watched her leave the room. She
paused for a moment on the threshold to gather up her train, a graceful
but at the same time imperious gesture. She left them without a
backward look. Mr. Foley turned quickly towards his companion and was
relieved at the expression which he found in his face.

"My niece is a little earnest in her views," he remarked, "too much so,
I am afraid, for a practical politician. She is quite well-informed and
a great help to me at times."

"I found her altogether charming," Maraton said quietly. "She has, too,
the unusual gift of honesty."

Mr. Foley was once more a little uneasy. It