ew, Mr. Ramage--I want to understand
you. . . . And I don't. There are thousands of men like me who have
been through this war--who have seen the glory underneath the dirt--who
want to understand too. We hoped--we still hope--that a new England
would grow out of it; but somehow. . . ." Vane laughed shortly, and
took out his cigarette case.

"And we are going to get that new England for which you have fought,"
burst out the other triumphantly. Then with a slight smile he looked
at Vane. "We must not forget our surroundings--I see a waiter
regarding me suspiciously. Thanks--no; I don't smoke." He traced a
pattern idly on the cloth for a moment, and then looked up quickly. "I
would like you to try to understand," he said. "Because, as I said,
the whole question of possible anarchy as opposed to a constitutional
change lies in your hands and the hands of your class."

Vane gave a short, incredulous laugh, and shook his head.

"In your hands," repeated the other gravely. "You see, Captain Vane,
we approach this matter from a fundamentally different point of view.
You look around you, and you see men striking here and striking there.
And you say 'Look at the swine; striking again!' But there's one thing
that you fail to grasp, I think. Underneath all these strikes and
violent upheavals, bursting into flame in all sorts of unexpected
places--there is the volcano of a vital conflict between two
fundamental ideas. Though the men hardly realise it themselves, it's
there, that conflict, all the time. . . . And we, who see a little
further than the mob, know that it's there, and that sooner or later
that conflict will end in victory for one side or the other. Which
side, my friend? Yours _or_ ours. . . . Or both. Yours _and_
ours. . . . England's." He paused for a moment as the waiter handed
him the coffee. Then he went on--"To the master-class generally there
is a certain order of things, and they can imagine nothing else. They
employ workers--they pay them, or they 'chuck' them, as they like.
They hold over them absolute power. They are kind in many cases; they
help and look after their employees. But they are the masters--and the
others are the men. That is the only form of society they can conceive
of. Any mitigation of conditions is simply a change within the old
order. That is one point of view. . . . Now for the other." He
turned with a smile to his hostess. "I hope I'm not boring you. . . ."