es of any sort
must add something, at least, to their dignity. It means a lightening
of the heart for a moment, an impulse of gladness. Why should we judge?
Beer is only a prototype of other things. Then, Selingman, mark this.
I brought the men of Lancashire out on strike some few weeks ago, and
Sheffield now is following suit. It is a matter of a few shillings a
week only, it is true, but I am very careful to tell them always that it
is simply a compromise which I am advocating. These small increases are
nothing. The operatives have a nature-given right to a share in the
product of their labour. In these days their slave hire is thrown at
them by an interloping person who calls himself an employer. In the
days to come it will be different."

"You beat time, then!" Selingman cried. "You head the waves! My friend
Maraton, they are right, those who turned me out of my villa at
Versailles and sent me over to you. They were right, indeed! I have
business with you, man--an inspiration to share. Ours is a great
meeting. You know Maxendorf?"

"By name," Maraton admitted, a little startled.

"A profound thinker," Selingman declared, "a mighty thinker, a giant, a
pioneer. I tell you that he sees, Maraton. He has pitched his tent
upon the hill-top. What do you know of him?"

"Chiefly," Maraton replied, "that he is an aristocrat, a diplomatist,
and the future ambassador here of a country I do not love."

Selingman drained a glass of champagne before he answered. He lit
another of his long, thin cigars and smoked furiously.

"Aristocrat--yes," he assented, "but you do not know Maxendorf. He will
be a joy to you, man. Oh, he sees! The day of the millions is coming,
and he knows it. On the Continent our middle class isn't like yours.
The conflict will never be so terrible. Thank God, our Labour stands
already with its feet upon the ground. With us, development is all that
is necessary. But you--you are up against a cul-de-sac, a black
mountain of prejudice and custom. Nothing can save you but an
earthquake or a revolution, and you know it. You came to England with
those ideas, Maraton. You have turned opportunist. It was the only
thing left for you. You didn't happen to see the one way out.
To-morrow it will be a new day with you. To-morrow we will show you."

They were rushing into London now. Selingman rose to his feet.

"At seven o'clock to-morrow I shall fetch you," he announced, "that is,
if I do not come in the morning