ch fate has thrown me? Believe me, you never know
the best about men till you know the worst about them. It does not
dispose of their strange human souls to know that they were
exhibited to the world as impossibly impeccable wax works, who never
looked after a woman or knew the meaning of a bribe. Even in a
palace, life can be lived well; and even in a Parliament, life can
be lived with occasional efforts to live it well. I tell you it is
as true of these rich fools and rascals as it is true of every poor
footpad and pickpocket; that only God knows how good they have tried
to be. God alone knows what the conscience can survive, or how a man
who has lost his honor will still try to save his soul."

There was another silence, and March sat staring at the table and
Fisher at the sea. Then Fisher suddenly sprang to his feet and
caught up his hat and stick with all his new alertness and even
pugnacity.

"Look here, old fellow," he cried, "let us make a bargain. Before
you open your campaign for Attwood come down and stay with us for
one week, to hear what we're really doing. I mean with the Faithful
Few, formerly known as the Old Gang, occasionally to be described as
the Low Lot. There are really only five of us that are quite fixed,
and organizing the national defense; and we're living like a
garrison in a sort of broken-down hotel in Kent. Come and see what
we're really doing and what there is to be done, and do us justice.
And after that, with unalterable love and affection for you, publish
and be damned."

Thus it came about that in the last week before war, when events
moved most rapidly, Harold March found himself one of a sort of
small house party of the people he was proposing to denounce. They
were living simply enough, for people with their tastes, in an old
brown-brick inn faced with ivy and surrounded by rather dismal
gardens. At the back of the building the garden ran up very steeply
to a road along the ridge above; and a zigzag path scaled the slope
in sharp angles, turning to and fro amid evergreens so somber that
they might rather be called everblack. Here and there up the slope
were statues having all the cold monstrosity of such minor ornaments
of the eighteenth century; and a whole row of them ran as on a
terrace along the last bank at the bottom, opposite the back door.
This detail fixed itself first in March's mind merely because it
figured in the first conversation he had with one of the cabinet
mi