away, it will be a mistake. You want to feel your feet upon the
clouds. You don't know how much safer you will be if you keep them upon
the earth. You may bring incalculable suffering and misery upon the
very people whom you wish to benefit. You think that I am a woman,
perhaps, and I know little. Yes, but sometimes we who are outside see
much, and it is dangerous, you know, to act upon theories. I haven't
spoken a single selfish word, have I? I haven't tried to tell you how
much I should hate to lose you."

He rose to his feet.

"I am going away," he said hoarsely. "I must fight this thing out
alone. But--"

He looked around. The words seemed to fail him. Their little corner of
the winter garden was still uninvaded.

"But, Lady Elisabeth," he continued, "you know the thing which makes it
harder for me than ever. You know very well that if I decide to do what
must make me a stranger in this household, I shall do it at a personal
sacrifice which I never dreamed could exist."

She swayed a little towards him. Her face was suddenly changed,
alluring; her eyes pleaded with him.

"You mustn't go away," she whispered. "If you go now, you must come
back--do you bear?--you must come back!"

CHAPTER XXXII

It was the eve of the reopening of Parliament. Maraton, who had been
absent from London--no one knew where--during the last six weeks, had
suddenly reappeared. Once more he had invited the committee of the
Labour Party to meet at his house. His invitation was accepted, but it
was obvious that this time their attitude towards the man who welcomed
them was one of declared and pronounced hostility. Graveling was there,
with sullen, evil face. He made no attempt to shake hands with Maraton,
and he sat at the table provided for them with folded arms and dour,
uncompromising aspect. Dale came late and he, too, greeted Maraton with
bluff unfriendliness. Borden's attitude was non-committal. Weavel
shook hands, but his frown and manner were portentous. Culvain, the
diplomat of the party, was quiet and reserved. David Ross alone had
never lost his attitude of unwavering fidelity. He sat at Maraton's
left hand, his head a little drooped, his eyes almost hidden beneath his
shaggy grey eyebrows, his lower lip protuberant. He had, somehow, the
air of a guarding dog, ready to spring into bitter words if his master
were touched.

"Gentlemen," Maraton began, when at last they were all assembled, "I
have asked you, the committee