reference to us, and yet calling himself and advertising himself as the
champion of our cause. Outside Parliament we can't stop you. The
Trades' Union men think more of you, maybe, than they do of us. But
inside you can plough your own furrow, and for my part, when you're on
your legs, the smoking-room will be plenty good enough for me!"

"And for the rest of us!" Graveling agreed fiercely. "If you're so keen
on being independent, you shall see what you can do on your own."

Dale was already on his way to the door, but Maraton checked him.

"Mr. Dale," he said, "you are an older man than I am, a man of much
experience. I beg you to reflect. The feelings which prompt you
towards this action are unworthy. If you attempt to send me to
Coventry, you will simply bring ridicule upon a Party which should be
the broadest-minded in the House."

Mr. Dale turned around. He had already crammed his black, wide-awake
hat on to his head. Like all men whose outlook upon life is limited,
the idea of ridicule was hateful to him.

"You mark my words, young man," he growled. "The one that makes a fool
of himself is the one that's going to play the toady to a master who
will send him to heel with a kick, every time he opens his mouth to
bark! Go your own way. I'm only sorry you ever set foot in this
country."

He passed out, followed by Weavel. Graveling only lingered upon the
threshold. He was looking towards Julia.

"Miss Thurnbrein," he said, "can I have a word with you?"

"You cannot," she replied steadily.

He remained there, dogged, full of suppressed wrath. The sight of her
taking her place before the typewriter seemed to madden him. Already
she was the better for the change of work and surroundings, for the
improved conditions of her daily life. There was the promise of colour
in her cheeks. Her plain black gown was as simple as ever, but her hair
was arranged with care, and she carried herself with a new distinction,
born of her immense contentment. Her supercilious attitude attracted
while it infuriated him.

"It's only a word I want," he persisted. "I have a right to some sort
of civility, at any rate."

"You have no rights at all," she retorted. "I thought that we had
finished with that the last time we spoke together."

"I want to know," he went on obstinately, "why you haven't been to work
lately?"

"Because I have left Weinberg's," she told him curtly. "It is no
business of yours, but if it will help to get ri