"No, sir!" he declared. "Me and my mates have stood for the people for this many a year, and we've no fancy for a fine gentleman springing up like a Jack-in-the-box from somewhere else in the House, without any reference to us, and yet calling himself and advertising himself as the champion of our cause. Outside Parliament we can't stop you. The Trades' Union men think more of you, maybe, than they do of us. But inside you can plough your own furrow, and for my part, when you're on your legs, the smoking-room will be plenty good enough for me!" "And for the rest of us!" Graveling agreed fiercely. "If you're so keen on being independent, you shall see what you can do on your own." Dale was already on his way to the door, but Maraton checked him. "Mr. Dale," he said, "you are an older man than I am, a man of much experience. I beg you to reflect. The feelings which prompt you towards this action are unworthy. If you attempt to send me to Coventry, you will simply bring ridicule upon a Party which should be the broadest-minded in the House." Mr. Dale turned around. He had already crammed his black, wide-awake hat on to his head. Like all men whose outlook upon life is limited, the idea of ridicule was hateful to him. "You mark my words, young man," he growled. "The one that makes a fool of himself is the one that's going to play the toady to a master who will send him to heel with a kick, every time he opens his mouth to bark! Go your own way. I'm only sorry you ever set foot in this country." He passed out, followed by Weavel. Graveling only lingered upon the threshold. He was looking towards Julia. "Miss Thurnbrein," he said, "can I have a word with you?" "You cannot," she replied steadily. He remained there, dogged, full of suppressed wrath. The sight of her taking her place before the typewriter seemed to madden him. Already she was the better for the change of work and surroundings, for the improved conditions of her daily life. There was the promise of colour in her cheeks. Her plain black gown was as simple as ever, but her hair was arranged with care, and she carried herself with a new distinction, born of her immense contentment. Her supercilious attitude attracted while it infuriated him. "It's only a word I want," he persisted. "I have a right to some sort of civility, at any rate." "You have no rights at all," she retorted. "I thought that we had finished with that the last time we spoke together." "I want to know," he went on obstinately, "why you haven't been to work lately?" "Because I have left Weinberg's," she told him curtly. "It is no business of yours, but if it will help to get rid of you--" "Left Weinberg's," he repeated. "Got another job, eh?" "I am Mr. Maraton's assistant secretary," she announced. His face for a moment was almost distorted with anger. "You're living here--under this roof?" he demanded. "It is no concern of yours where or how I am living," she answered.