“It may be,” said Somers slowly. “I am neither a financier nor a politician. It seems as if the next thing to come a cropper were capital: now there are no more kings to speak of. It may be the middle classes are coming smash--which is the same thing as finance--as capital. But also it may not be. I’ve given up trying to know.” “What will be will be, eh,” said Jack with a smile. “I suppose so, in this matter.” “Ay, but, look here, I believe it’s right what you say. The middle classes _are_ coming down. What do they sit on?--they sit on money, on capital. And this country is as good as bankrupt, so then what have they left to stand on?” “They say most countries are really bankrupt. But if they agree among themselves to carry on, the word doesn’t amount to much.” “Oh, but it does. It amounts to a hull of a lot, here in this country. If it ever came to the push, and the state was bankrupt, there’d be no holding New South Wales in.” “The state never will be bankrupt.” “Won’t it? Won’t there be a financial smash, a proper cave in, before we’re much older? Won’t there? We’ll see. But look here, do you care if there is?” “I don’t know what it means, so I can’t say. Theoretically I don’t mind a bit if international finance goes bust: if it can go bust.” “Never mind about theoretically. You’d like to see the power of money, the power of capital, _broke_. Would you or wouldn’t you?” Somers watched the excited, handsome face opposite him, and answered slowly: “Theoretically, yes. Actually, I really don’t know.” “Oh to hell with your theoretically. Drown it. Speak like a man with some feeling in your guts. You either would or wouldn’t. Don’t leave your shirt-tail hanging out, with a theoretically. Would you or wouldn’t you.” Somers laughed. “Why, yes, I would,” he said, “and be damned to everything.” “Shake,” cried Jack, stretching over. And he took Somers’ small hand between both his own. “I knew,” he said in a broken voice, “that we was mates.” Somers was rather bewildered. “But you know,” he said, “I never take any part in politics at all. They aren’t my affair.” “They’re not! They’re not! You’re quite right. You’re quite right, you are. You’re a damned sight too good to be mixing up in any dirty politics. But all I want is that your feelings should be the same as mine, and they are, thank my stars, they are.” By this time Somers was almost scared. “But why should you care?” he said, with some reserve. The other however did not heed him. “You’re not with the middle classes, as you call them, the money-men, as I call them, and I know you’re not. And if you’re not with them you’re against them.” “My father was a working-man. I come from the working people. My sympathy is with them, when it’s with anybody, I assure you.” Jack stared at Somers wide-eyed, a smile gathering round his mouth.