“Some day,” she said suddenly to her mother, “some day the young men will break free.”
“As one gets older one learns the meaning of compromise. I have learnt it myself,” Mrs. Fane-Herbert answered.
“That may have been true of the last generation.”
“It’s true for all time.”
“But don’t you feel, mother, that everything is going to change? There’s going to be a catastrophe, a great breaking-up. And at first it will be a tragedy—flat tragedy. We shall pay for all that’s gone by—the young men will pay. And out of it will come——”
“Nothing will come of it. Revolution, chaos, a military dictatorship, and then slowly back to a system essentially the same as the old.”
“I’m not speaking of a political revolution—only. Not a change of means, but a change of motive.”
Mrs. Fane-Herbert smiled at her. “You strike truth, Margaret.” Then, swiftly serious, she touched her daughter’s hand. “You know what you are asking for—a revolution for Christ?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe that possible?”