“The next time they met,” went on Temple, “it was in the hall of Gloucester House; many years after. My father was footman, and Captain Willesmere had become the Earl of Dunraven. The crowd was great, and my father, who had only just recovered from a severe illness, was suddenly overcome by the heat, and as he helped the Earl with his coat, fell all of a heap on his shoulder. The latter, furious at being thus familiarly handled, pushed my father forward, who fell on his back and heard the nobleman say, ‘Damn you, rascal, are you drunk? can’t you see who I am?’ When as a result, my father had to seek another situation, he could not but reflect with bitterness upon the disparity which exists between classes; although he wondered what difference there was between a trooper who lay wounded on the ground for his country, and a footman who felt suddenly ill whilst fulfilling his duties in his master’s house.” “I suppose great emergencies such as wars and earthquakes bring out the best in man, and make him forget the artificial barriers between his fellow-creatures and himself,” said Lionel. “Of course, my lord, I know that domestics are looked down upon. I know also that they are often cunning, inquisitive, more or less lazy, curious as to their master’s correspondence, and fonder still of their master’s cigars.” “I see, Temple, that you are not over partial to your own class,” broke in Sinclair. “I cannot help thinking of these things now, sir, but after all, the defects that we have, are, in a sort of way, initiated by you. We loved gambling, betting, drinking, and lolling about; and as far as passions go, I daresay we have the same amount of animal spirits as a Duke or even a Royal Prince, with this difference that in your upper circles your lives are never blighted, whatever you may do; and your friends do not cut you for such misdemeanours as drinking too heavily or betting too recklessly. I fail to see why our private lives should be sifted through and through before we can have the privilege of handing your dishes round at table or of sitting in silence in your halls, whilst some members of the peerage are allowed to make laws for their country, although they, each day, are breaking God’s laws and Society’s rules.” “I quite agree with you, my good fellow,” suddenly remarked Lionel, “and this is the reason why we have given up pulling the wires of Government.” “We respect you the more for it, my lord.” “Now, Temple?” And Gwen leaned her graceful form over the carved arm of her couch; her whole attitude was one of apology for the harm she had unconsciously committed in her past state. “Let me know my grievous wrongs. Do not spare me.” “My poor Gwen,” exclaimed Mrs Archibald, hiding her face in her hands. “What has become of your feminine modesty?” “Let him speak, Alicia; true feminine delicacy is not hurt by the knowledge of injustice. Temple go on.”