England -- Fiction; Socialism -- Fiction; Socialists -- Fiction
She crept away to her bedroom. He had gone far towards killing the love
that had known no rival in her heart.
He bantered her ceaselessly through breakfast next morning, and for the
first time she could find no word to reply to him. Her head drooped;
she touched nothing on the table. Before going off he asked her what the
appointment was for to-day, and advised her not to forget her latch-key.
Alice scarcely heard him, she was shame-stricken and wobegone.
Rodman, on the other hand, had never been in better spirits. The ‘Irish
Dairy Company’ was attracting purchasers of shares. It was the kind of
scheme which easily recommended itself to a host of the foolish people
who are ever ready to risk their money, also to some not quite so
foolish. The prospectus could show some respectable names: one or two
Irish lords, a member of Parliament, some known capitalists. The profits
could not but be considerable, and think of the good to ‘the unhappy
sister country’--as the circular said. Butter, cheese, eggs of
unassailable genuineness, to be sold in England at absurdly low prices,
yet still putting the producers on a footing of comfort and proud
independence. One of the best ideas that had yet occurred to Mr. Robert
Delancey.
He--the said Mr. Delancey, _alias_ Mr. Willis Rodman, _alias_ certain
other names--spent much of his time just now in the society of a Mr.
Hilary, a gentleman who, like himself, had seen men and manners in
various quarters of the globe, and was at present making a tolerable
income by the profession of philanthropy. Mr. Hilary’s name appeared
among the directors of the company; it gave confidence to many who were
familiar with it in connection with not a few enterprises started for
the benefit of this or that depressed nationality, this or the other
exploited class. He wrote frequently to the newspapers on the most
various subjects; he was known to members of Parliament through his
persistent endeavours to obtain legislation with regard to certain
manufactures proved to be gravely deleterious to the health of those
employed in them. To-day Mr. Delancey and Mr. Hilary passed some hours
together in the latter’s chambers. Their talk was of the company.
‘So you saw Mutimer about it?’ Rodman asked, turning to a detail in
which he was specially interested.
‘Yes. He is anxious to have shares.’
Mr. Hilary was a man of past middle age, long-bearded, somewhat
cadaverous of hue. His head was venerable.
‘You were careful not to mention me?’
‘I kept your caution in mind.’
Their tone to each other was one of perfect gravity. Mr. Hilary even
went out of his way to choose becoming phrases.
‘He won’t have anything to do with it if he gets to know who R. Delancey
is.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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