“He is as likely to do it as any of the rest of us,” said Olive, “Perhaps more.”
“You are right,” said Herne, with abrupt sobriety “Perhaps none of us would do it. . . . But what if the world needs such despots and such demagogues?”
Braintree slowly raised his head and looked steadily at the other man. “Such despots . . .” he said, and frowned heavily.
CHAPTER XII
THE STATESMAN AND THE SUMMER-HOUSE
At this point of the conversation that particular corner of the garden was filled with the broad and breezy presence of Julian Archer in resplendent evening dress; he entered with a swing and then stopped dead, staring at Michael Herne.
“I say,” he cried, “are you never going to change.”
Perhaps the sixth repetition of this single sentence was what drove the librarian of Seawood mad.
Anyhow he swung round, staring also, and suddenly cried out in a voice that rang down the garden path.
“No. I am never going to change.”