ncise phrasing, suggestive; as it was, of much
reflection. But at the moment, although he had been prepared for and had
braced himself against something of this nature, he was nevertheless
overcome by the absolute and fearless directness of her speech.

"That is a question," he answered, "which you will have to ask your
father."

"I have asked him," she said, in a low voice; "I want to know what--you
believe."

"You have asked him!" he repeated, in astonishment.

"Yes. You mustn't think that, in asking you, I am unfair to him in any
way--or that I doubt his sincerity. We have been" (her voice caught a
little) "the closest friends ever since I was a child." She paused. "But
I want to know what you believe."

The fact that she emphasized the last pronoun sent another thrill through
him. Did it, then, make any difference to her what he believed? Did she
mean to differentiate him from out of the multitude? He had to steady
himself before he answered:--"I have sometimes thought that my own view
might not be broad enough."

She turned to him again.

"Why are you evading?" she asked. "I am sure it is not because you have
not settled convictions. And I have asked you--a favour."

"You have done me an honour," he answered, and faced her suddenly. "You
must see," he cried, with a power and passion in his voice that startled
and thrilled her in turn, "you must see that it's because I wish to be
fair that I hesitate. I would tell you--anything. I do not agree with my
own father,--we have been--apart--for years because of this. And I
do--not agree with Mr. Flint. I am sure that they both are wrong. But I
cannot help seeing their point of view. These practices are the result of
an evolution, of an evolution of their time. They were forced to cope
with conditions in the way they did, or go to the wall. They make the
mistake of believing that the practices are still necessary to-day."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, a great hope rising within her at these words. "Oh,
and you believe they are not!" His explanation seemed so simple, so
inspiring. And above and beyond that, he was sure. Conviction rang in
every word. Had he not, she remembered, staked his career by disagreeing
with his father? Yes, and he had been slow to condemn; he had seen their
side. It was they who condemned him. He must have justice--he should have
it!

"I believe such practices are not necessary now," he said firmly. "A new
generation has come--a generation more