rything has gone your way since you came to England?"

"I am not sure how I feel about it," he replied. "Think! I came with
different ideas. I came with a religion which admitted no compromises,
and I have accepted a compromise."

"A wise and a sane one," she declared, almost passionately. "And
to-night--tell me, am I not right?--to-night there have been those who
have sought to upset it in your mind."

"You are clairvoyant."

"Not I, but it is so easy to see! It is the dream of Maxendorf's life
to bring England to the verge of a revolution by paralysing her
industries. Better for him, that, than any violent scheme of conquest.
If he can stop the engine that drives the wheels of the country, they
can come over in tourist steamers and tell us how to govern it better."

"And if they did," he asked quickly, "isn't it possible that their rule
over the people might be better than the rule of this stubborn
generation?"

She drew herself up. Her eyes flashed with anger.

"Haven't you a single gleam of patriotism?" she demanded.

He sighed.

"I think that I have," he replied, "and yet, it lies at the back of my
thoughts, at the back of my heart. It is more like an artistic
inspiration, one of those things that lie among the pleasant impulses of
life. Right in the foreground I see the great groaning cycle of
humanity being flung from the everlasting wheels into the bottomless
abyss. I cannot take my eyes from the people, you see."

She sat almost rigid for some brief space of time. A servant was
arranging plates in front of them, their glasses were refilled, the
music of a waltz stole in through the open door. Around them many other
people were sitting. An atmosphere of gaiety began gradually to
develop. Maraton watched his companion closely. Her eyes were full of
trouble, her sensitive mouth quivering a little. There was a straight
line across her forehead. Her fair hair was arranged in great coils,
without a single ornament. She wore no jewels at all save a single
string of pearls around her slim white neck. Maraton, as the moments
passed, was conscious of a curious weakening, a return of that same
thrill which the sound of her voice that first day--half imperious, half
gracious--had incited in him. He waved his hand towards the crowd of
those who supped around them.

"Let us forget," he begged. "I, too, feel that I have more in my mind
to-night than my brain can cope with. Let us rest for a little time."

Her f