"Excellent! Excellent!" Selingman murmured. "Maraton, alas!" Mr. Foley continued, "is only half a convert. As yet he wears his yoke heavily." "A queer place for him," Selingman declared. "I looked down and saw him there this evening. I listened to the dozen words he spoke. He seemed to me rather like a lawyer, who, having a dull case, says what he has to say and sits down. Does he do any real good here, Mr. Foley?" "It is from these walls," the Prime Minister reminded him, "that the laws of the country are framed." Selingman shook his head slowly. "Academically correct," he admitted, "and yet, walls of brick and stone may crumble and split. The laws which endure come into being through the power of the people." "Don't throw cold water upon my compromise," Mr. Foley begged. "We are hoping for great things. We are fighting the class against which you have written so splendidly; we are fighting the bourgeoisie, tooth and nail. One thing is certainly written--that if Maraton here stands by my side for the next seven years, Labour will have thrown off one, at least, of the shackles that bind her. Isn't it better to release her slowly and gradually, than to destroy her altogether by trying more violent means?" "Ah, who knows!" Selingman remarked enigmatically. "Who knows! . . . And what of the rest of the evening? Are there more laws to be made--more speeches?" "Finished," Mr. Foley replied. "There is nothing more to be done. That is why I am proposing that you two men go to your rooms, make yourselves look as much like Philistines as you can, and come and pay your respects to my niece. Lady Elisabeth is complaining a little about you, Maraton," he went on. "You are a rare visitor." "Lady Elisabeth is very kind," Maraton murmured. "I wish that we could come," Selingman said. "If I lived here long, I would bustle our friend Maraton about. To-day I have had him a little way into the country, him and his pale-faced secretary, and I have poured sunshine down upon them, and wine, and good things to eat. Oh, they are very narrow, both of them, when they look out at life! Not so am I. I love to feel the great thoughts swinging through my brain, but I love also the good things of life. I love the interludes of careless joys, I love all the pleasant things our bodies were meant to appreciate. Those who do not, they wither early. I do not like pale cheeks. Therefore, I wish that I could stay a little time with this friend of ours. I would see that he paid his respects to all the charming ladies who were ready to welcome him." Mr. Foley laughed softly. "What a marvellous mixture you would make, you two!" he observed. "Your prose and Maraton's eloquence, your philosophy and his tenacity. So you won't come? Well, I am disappointed." "We go to see a friend of mine," Selingman announced. "We go to pay our respects to a man famous indeed, a man who will make history in your country."