"I dare say. D--n the Martover meeting! But what _taste_!--two brothers slanging at each other--almost in the same parish. I declare women have no taste!--not a ha'porth. But I won't do it--and mother, just for once, will have to give in." He sat down again and took the cigarette which Lester handed him--no doubt with soothing intentions. And indeed his state of excitement and agitation appeared nothing less than pitiable to the friend who remembered the self-complacent young orator, the budding legislator of early April. "You are afraid of being misunderstood?" "If I attack her father, as mother wishes me to attack him," said the young man, with emphasis, looking up, "Enid Glenwilliam will never speak to me again. She makes that quite plain." "She ought to be too clever!" said Lester, with vivacity. "Can't she discriminate between the politician and the private friend?" Arthur shook his head. "Other people may. She doesn't. If I get up in public and call Glenwilliam a thief and a robber--and what else can I call him, with mother looking on?--there'll be an end of my chances for good and all. She's _fanatical_ about her father! She's pulled me up once or twice already about him. I tell you--it's rather fine, Lester!--upon my soul, it is!" And with a countenance suddenly softening and eyes shining, Arthur turned his still boyish looks upon his friend. "I can quite believe it. They're a very interesting pair.... But--I confess I'm thinking of Lady Coryston. What explanation can you possibly give? Are you prepared to take her into your confidence?" "I don't know whether I'm prepared or not. Whatever happens I'm between the devil and the deep sea. If I tell her, she'll break with me; and if I don't tell her, it won't be long before she guesses for herself!" There was a pause, broken at last by Lester, whose blue eyes had shown him meanwhile deep in reflection. He bent forward. "Look here, Arthur!--can't you make a last effort, and get free?" His companion threw him a queer resentful look, but Lester persisted: "You know what I think. You won't make each other happy. You belong to two worlds which won't and can't mix. Her friends can never be your friends nor your friends hers. You think that doesn't matter now, because you're in love. But it does matter--and it'll tell more and more every year." "Don't I know it?" cried Arthur. "She despises us all. She looks upon us all--I mean, us people, with land and money and big houses--just as so much grist to her father's mill, so many fat cattle for him to slaughter." "And yet you love her!"