But the moment of weakening was soon over. Her mind chafed and twisted. Why had he undertaken it--a complete stranger to her! It was most embarrassing--detestable--for them both! And there suddenly darted through her memory the recollection of a certain item in her father's will. Under it Mr. Winnington received a sum of L4,000 out of her father's estate, "in consideration of our old friendship, and of the trouble I am asking him to undertake in connection with my estates,"--or words to that effect. Somehow, she had never yet paid much attention to that clause in the will. It occurred in a list of a good many other legacies, and had been passed over by the lawyers in explaining the will to her, as something entirely in the natural course of things. But the poisonous thought suggested itself--"It was that which bribed him!--he would have given it up, but for that!" He might not want it for himself--very possibly!--but for his charities, his Cripple School and the rest. Her face stiffened. "If you have arranged with her father, of course I can't interfere," she said coldly. "But don't imagine, please, Mr. Winnington, for one moment, that I accept your view of the things I 'needn't know.' If I am to do my duty to the people on this estate--" "I thought you weren't going to live on the estate?" he said, lifting his eyebrows. "Not at once--not this winter." She was annoyed to feel herself stammering. "But of course I have a responsibility--" The kindly laugh in his grey eyes faded. "Yes--I quite admit that,--a great responsibility," he said slowly. "Do you mind if I mention another subject?" "The meetings?" she said, quickly. "You mean that?" "Yes--the meetings. I have just seen the placard in the village." "Well?" Her loveliness in defiance dazzled him, but he held on stoutly. "You said nothing to me about these meetings the other day." "You never asked me!" He paused a moment. "No--but was it quite--quite fair to me--to let me suppose that the drawing-room meeting at Maumsey, which you kindly gave up, was the only meeting you had in view?" He saw her breath fluttering. "I don't know what you supposed, Mr. Winnington! I said nothing." "No. But you let me draw an inference--a mistaken inference. However--let that be. Can I not persuade you--now--to give up the Latchford meeting, and any others of the same kind you may have ahead?" She flamed at him. "I refuse to give them up!" she said, setting her teeth. "I have as much right to my views as you, Mr. Winnington! I am of full age, and I intend to work for them." "Setting fire to houses--which is what your society is advocating--and doing--hardly counts as 'views,'" he said, with sudden sternness. "Risking the lives, or spoiling the property of one's fellow countrymen, is not the same thing as political argument." "It's _our_ argument--" she said passionately.--"The men who are denying us the vote understand nothing else!"