"By easy stages," said Diana. "Wasn't that where we had come to? But first--tell me, because it's all so puzzling!--do you and Mr. Marsham agree?" "A good deal. But he thinks _he_ can use _us_--which is his mistake." "And Mr. Ferrier?" Mr. Frobisher shook his head good-humoredly. "No, no!--Ferrier is a Whig--the Whig of to-day, _bien entendu_, who is a very different person from the Whig of yesterday--still, a Whig, an individualist, a moderate man. He leads the Liberal party--and it is changing all the time under his hand into something he dreads and detests. The party can't do without him now--but--" He paused, smiling. "It will shed him some day?" "It must!" "And where will Mr. Marsham be then?" "On the winning side--I think." The tone was innocent and careless; but the words offended her. She drew herself up a little. "He would never betray his friends!" "Certainly not," said Mr. Frobisher, hastily; "I didn't mean that. But Marsham has a mind more open, more elastic, more modern than Ferrier--great man as he is." Diana was silent. She seemed still to hear some of the phrases and inflections of Mr. Ferrier's talk of the afternoon. Mr. Frobisher's prophecy wounded some new-born sympathy in her. She turned the conversation. With Oliver Marsham she talked when she could, as Lady Niton allowed her. She succeeded, at least, in learning something more of her right-hand neighbor and of Miss Vincent. Mr. Frobisher, it appeared, was a Fellow of Magdalen, and was at present lodging in Limehouse, near the docks, studying poverty and Trade-unionism, and living upon a pound a week. As for Miss Vincent, in her capacity of secretary to a well-known Radical member of Parliament, she had been employed, for his benefit, in gathering information first-hand, very often in the same fields where Mr. Frobisher was at work. This brought them often together--and they were the best of comrades, and allies.