Delia, indeed, was again--and as usual--in revolt, against herself and circumstances. Why had she been such a fool as to come to Monk Lawrence at all, and then to submit to seeing it--on sufferance!--in Winnington's custody? And how he must be contrasting her with Susy Amberley!--the soft sister of charity, plying her womanly tasks, in the manner of all good women, since the world began! She saw herself as the anarchist prowling outside, tracked, spied on, held at arm's length by all decent citizens, all lovers of ancient beauty, and moral tradition; while, within, women like Susy Amberley sat Madonna-like, with the children at their knee. "Well, we stand for the children too--the children of the future!" she said to herself defiantly. "This is the old hall--and the gallery that was put up in honour of Elizabeth's visit here in 1570--" she heard Winnington saying--"One of the finest things of its kind. But you can hardly see it." The electric light indeed was of the feeblest. A dim line of it ran round the carved ceiling, and glimmered in the central chandelier. But the mingled illumination of sunset and moonrise from outside contended with it on more than equal terms; and everything in the hall, tapestries, armour, and old oak, the gallery above, the dais with its carved chairs below, had the dim mystery of a stage set ready for the play, before the lights are on. Daunt apologised. "The gardener'll be here directly, Sir. He knows how to manage it better than I." And in spite of protests from the two visitors he ran off again to see what could he done to better the light. Delia turned impetuously on her companion. "I know you think I have no business to be here!" Winnington paused a moment, then said-- "I was rather astonished to see you here, certainly." "Because of what we said at Latchford the other day?" "_You_ didn't say it!" "But I agreed with it--I agreed with every word of it!" "Then indeed I _am_ astonished that you should wish to see Sir Wilfrid Lang's house!" he said, with energy. "My recollections of it have nothing to do with Sir Wilfrid. I never saw him that I know of." "All the same, it belongs to him." "No!--to history--to the nation!" "Then let the nation guard it--and every individual in the nation! But do you think Miss Marvell would take much pains to protect it?" "Gertrude said nothing about the house." "No; but if I had been one of the excitable women you command, my one desire after that speech would have been to do some desperate damage to Sir Wilfrid, or his property. If anything does happen, I am afraid everyone in the neighbourhood will regard her as responsible." Delia moved impatiently. "Can't we say what we think of Sir Wilfrid--because he happens to possess a beautiful house?" "If you care for Monk Lawrence, you do so,--with this campaign on foot--only at great risk. Confess, Miss Delia!--that you were sorry for that speech!" He turned upon her with animation.