"Bombs, sir? There is no such word; there are no such articles in my scheme of reform. I would enlighten those in power by pen and speech. If they will not listen, then their blood must be upon their own heads; for the masses will rise and sweep them from out their counting-houses; hurl them from their thrones; tear them from the bench of justice on which they sit to administer evil laws. To stamp out tyranny the earth, as it now is, must be churned up, deluged with the blood of the unjust; devastated, in short, from pole to pole." "You bring, a torch for burning, but no hammer for building," quoted Olive, who had read her Carlyle and remembered him. "The torch first, the hammer to follow. To build up we must first pull down, and on the ruins of the past build--Utopia." "Another name for dreamland," muttered Semberry. Olive grew rather tired of Drabble and his diatribes. Not so Tui, however. She listened to the doctor's cheap philanthropy with parted lips and eager eyes. She hung upon his every word, and, seeing that he had at least one sympathetic listener, Drabble addressed his conversation almost exclusively to her. Observing this, Olive slipped out on to the terrace, where, much to her disgust, she was speedily joined by Carson. "I thought you liked listening to Dr. Drabble?" she said coldly. "No; he talks commonplaces. I prefer romance." "Romance?" echoed Olive, thinking of their relative positions, so far removed as they were from the ideal. "Romance here?" "And where else will you find it if not in this rose-garden? Tell me, Olive," he went on, without waiting for her reply, "why do you avoid me? Have I offended you?" "You?" she replied with contempt; "you could not offend any one. I never knew so harmless a being." "It is better surely to be harmless than harmful?" said Carson, complacently. "I shall make you a good husband." "You shall never be my husband," retorted Olive, flushed with anger. Carson looked scared. "I understood we were to be married in a fortnight," he said under his breath. "So we are! I marry you not because I love you, but because I respect the wish of my father. I can be a wife to you in name only." "Olive, what do you mean?" "What I say. Cannot you comprehend plain English? When we are married, you and I can be no more to one another than we are at this moment." "And if I refuse?" he said, with a faint show of anger. "Then I cannot marry you," answered Olive quietly. "My desire is to carry out to the letter the will of my father; and, by becoming your wife, give you the control of this fifty thousand pounds. More than this I cannot do. I pay you this money for my freedom. You are free to accept it or refuse it as you will." Angus looked mortified and indignant. A flush was across his weak but handsome face. "Do you then hate me?" he demanded angrily. "I am indifferent to you. I do not love you; for that reason I make my bargain." "I understand. You love that insolent Mallow?"