‘I am speaking to you with a purpose,’ Adrienne went on in the same tone, low and quiet, but full of vehemence. ‘Since that night when you stepped forward in my defence, I have thought much about you--very much. I have studied you, and you do not know how well-used I am to studying people. The more I have studied you, the more I have felt that you were both generous and high-minded--and terribly hot-tempered,’ she added, with a smile, which Myles thought must have charmed the temper of a ravening wolf. ‘Just think what you, a workman, might do by setting an example to your fellow-workmen. Take the right side. You are too good for the commonplace career of an ordinary “intelligent working-man,” for a blind submission to trade-union rules, and for an obstinate resistance to your masters, just because they are your masters, or because your union bids you resist them. Don’t be a tool; use your reason; consider the why and wherefore of things. Be answerable to your conscience alone for all you say and do. Help to show your fellows that all improvement in their condition must arise actively from within, not be received passively from without--you know that, and own it, don’t you?’ ‘Yes,’ said Myles, quickly, folding his arms and leaning against the mantelpiece, his eyes fixed upon her, as she stood before him, with her head a little thrown back; her eyes alight, looking beautiful in her energy and excitement. ‘I wish,’ she said, ‘I often wish that I were a working-woman, like your sister. I would show you what I meant; how toil could be ennobled.’ She paused. Myles’s heart was beating wildly. Something, whether God or devil he had no time to think, hurried quick words from his lips; in a voice as low, as vehement as her own had been, he said, ‘Do you? And suppose it ever came to the point? Suppose some day some working-man came to you, and told you he loved you; that he could see how toil might be ennobled, if you would help him to do it--there would be an end of your philosophy. You would think of the cottage to live in, the floors to scrub, the rough neighbours, the coarse common life, the children to tend, and make, and mend, and sew for; and if you could get over that, there would be the man himself--a great rough fellow--a workman, not a gentleman, a man of rough speech, like--like our sort. You would have to work for him, too; to cook, and sew, and wash for him; to obey him--_you_. When he said, “Do this,” you must do it, and when he called, “Come here!” you must go to him. That’s the way amongst us working-people. What about the ennobling of toil _then_?’ He spoke jeeringly, and hated himself for doing so; and listened for her answer in a state of wild, if silent, excitement. Her hands had dropped, her eyes had sunk, her face was burning; she turned away. If he could have trusted himself to move or speak, he would have fallen upon his knees and begged her pardon.