“Immensely. I detached it from the review, and restitched it with blue ribbon to use as a text-book. Without it I might have been led to destruction by Hendrick.” “Ah, my dear Lady Phayre--I shall not tell it in Gath; but when are you going to have views of your own?” “Views? Of course I have views,” said Lady Phayre, comfortably reversing the crossing of her feet, “just like everybody else, only theirs are fixed and mine are--dissolving. It gives greater variety to life. But I think the Goddard view will be lasting.” “I shall tell him. He will be flattered.” “Oh, you know him?” “Pretty intimately. I may say that I trained him--in the sporting, not the pedagogic sense.” “You never told me. Have you many more lights under your bushel?” “A dazzling illumination of unsuspected virtues. But I didn’t do very much for Goddard except put him in the way of things; and he would have come to the front right enough without me. He is the coming man of the younger school of Progressists. The anomaly of his generation--a hot reformer with luminous common-sense--a popular demagogue with an idea of proportion--an original thinker--a powerful, eloquent speaker. Look at the work he has done on the Council, the Progressive League--ramifications spreading all over the country with organised courses of lectures on civism, social economics, and what not. Decidedly the coming man.” “It does one good to see you enthusiastic,” cried Lady Phayre with a laugh. “Your criticisms are generally more bracing than genial. But why don’t I know Goddard?” “He surely has not sprung suddenly into your horizon?” “Of course not. The newspapers--general talk--I know all about him that way. I meant, why don’t I know him personally?” There was a touch of reprimand in the “why.” Gleam was Lord Chamberlain in Ordinary to her ladyship. “I was waiting until he got into the House at the next general election. You see, until seven years ago, when he came into some money that rendered him independent, he was a carpenter or something--no, cabinetmaker--and so, to be frank, I never thought of it.” “And you call yourself a Radical! Well, what is the matter with him? Does he wear corduroys tied up at the knees, and carry a red pocket-handkerchief in his hat?” “Oh dear no!” exclaimed Gleam hastily. “He is presentable. I told you of a little training----” “Well, then, lose no time in bringing him,” said Lady Phayre. “He surely must have heard of _me_.” She was proud of her position: somewhat jealous of it too. That a generation of Progressists should arise which knew not Lady Phayre was a dreadful contingency. She had a prescriptive right to the homage of the coming man of the wing. Besides, an ex-cabinetmaker whose views on social polity she had thought worth while to tie up with blue ribbon was a novelty. Aloysius Gleam took his leave. At the door he was summoned to pause. “He won’t walk up and down the room and shake his finger at me, will he?”