"Let's ask ourselves once more, Herbert--is it really a wise thing to do?" Nobody else since his father died had ever called Coryston by his Christian name; which was perhaps why Marion Atherstone took a peculiar pleasure in using it. Coryston had mostly forgotten that he possessed such a name, but from her he liked it. "What on earth do you mean by that?" "In the first place, Herbert, I was never intended by nature to be a peeress." He sprang up furiously. "I never heard a more snobbish remark! All that you are asked is to be my wife." She shook her head. "We can't make a world for ourselves only. Then there's--father." "Well, what about him?" "You don't get on very well," she said, with a sigh. Coryston controlled himself with difficulty. "For your father, the Liberal party is mostly Jahve--the hope of the children of light. For me the Liberal party is mostly Dagon--either made a god of by Philistines, or groveling before a stronger God--Mammon. But that don't matter. I can behave myself." Marion bent over her work. "Can't I behave myself?" he repeated, threateningly, as he moved nearer her. She looked up at last. "Suppose you get bored with me--as you have with the Liberal party?" "But never with liberty," he said, ardently. "Suppose you come to see the seamy side of me--as you do of everybody?" "I don't invent seamy sides--where none exist," he said, looking peremptorily into her eyes. "I'm not clever, Herbert--and I think I'm a Tory." "Heavens, what do I care? You're the woman I happen to love." "And I intend to go to church." "Edward Newbury's kind of church?" he asked her, uneasily. She shook her head. "No. I'm an Evangelical." "Thank the Lord! So am I," he said, fervently. She laughed. "It's true," he insisted. "Peace on earth--goodwill to men--that I can understand. So that's settled. Now then--a fortnight next Wednesday?" "No, no!" she said, in alarm, "certainly not. Wait a minute, Herbert! Where are you going to live, and what are you going to do?" "I'm taking over the Dorset estates. Lots to do on them, and not much money. Arthur washes his hands of them. There's an old farm where we can live. In six months I shall have quarreled with all the neighbors, and life will be worth living again." She lifted her eyebrows. "A charming prospect for your wife!" "Certainly. You'll have the life you were born for. You'll go round after me--whitewashing the scandals I cause--or if you like to put it sentimentally--binding up the wounds I make. But if I'm anything I'm a sociologist, and my business is to make experiments. They will no doubt be as futile as those I have been making here." "And where shall I come in?" "You'll be training up the boy--who'll profit by the experiments." "The boy?" "The boy--our boy--who's to have the estates," said Coryston, without a moment's hesitation.