"England may be corrupt," said Evelyn, "but she’s not ignoble. Like a woman, again, she finds herself and loses herself, and then has to find herself once more. Do you remember Borrow’s prayer? I found it in some old book as a child, and learnt it by heart; it’s wonderful. It seems to apply now. ’If thy doom be at hand, may that doom be a noble one.... May thou sink, if thou dost sink, amidst blood and flame with a mighty noise, causing more than one nation to participate in thy downfall. Of all fates, may it please God to preserve thee from a slow decay, becoming, ere extinct, a scorn and mockery for those self-same foes, who, though they envy and abhor thee, still fear and honour thee even against their will.’" There was a pause. "In England’s extremity oughtn’t we to pray that prayer each day?" "’May more than one nation participate in thy downfall,’" repeated Beadon gravely. "Amen to that." "Now, do say it all over again, slowly," said Dora Beadon, who had a knack of reducing any serious conversation to a commonplace level. "Have you got a pencil, Lord Meavy? Oh, thanks so much; how good of you!—and some paper? Now again, Evelyn; don’t hurry so, there’s a dear; I really like it, and I’m so short of quotations for my extract book just now." But Evelyn was leaning forward. Throughout the little interlude her look, slightly narrowed and anxious, had been fixed on Creagh. She touched his arm suddenly, in triumph. "You spoke of the hour and the man—and you are keeping both from us. You’ve planned the one already, my dear Dick, and you’ve arranged that the other should appear. It’s no use denying it. I’ve been cudgelling my brains ever since you spoke last, wondering who on earth you could possibly have in view." Hare frowned at her beneath his heavy eyebrows. "There you are again, Mrs. Brand, with your visions and dreams. And you’re so horribly right too, as a rule! I don’t like your uncanny ways. Not so many years ago you would have been burned as a witch, and you’d have richly deserved it." "It’s her Celtic blood," Creagh explained, patting her hand affectionately. "I might have talked to you sordid English until doomsday and you would never have guessed what she has just stated as a fact. You’re quite right, Evelyn; I’ve heard of a man who might do. A man of very high intelligence and power. He’s young, and has made his way already, out of England. Some of you may even have heard of him; he specializes in the rather uncommon line of empire building." "Well, that’s a useful characteristic," said Meavy enviously, thinking of South Africa’s many needs. "Not a soldier, I hope," Hare grumbled, true to civilian prejudice.