“If they knew their own strength,” Catherine declared, “they would be the predominant party. Should you like to go to the polls to-day and fight for your seats against them?”
“Heaven forbid!” Mr. Stenson exclaimed. “But then we’ve made up our mind to one thing—no general election during the war. Afterwards, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if Unionists and Liberals and even Radicals didn’t amalgamate and make one party.”
“To fight Labour,” Furley said grimly.
“To keep England great,” Mr. Stenson replied. “You must remember that so far as any scheme or program which the Labour Party has yet disclosed, in this country or any other, they are preeminently selfish. England has mighty interests across the seas. A parish-council form of government would very soon bring disaster.”
Julian glanced at the clock and rose to his feet.
“I don’t want to hurry any one,” he said, “but my father is rather a martinet about luncheon.”
They all rose. Mr. Stenson turned to Julian.
“Will you go on with Miss Abbeway?” he begged. “I will catch up with you on the marshes. I want to have just a word with Furley.”
Julian and his companion crossed the country road and passed through the gate opposite on to the rude track which led down almost to the sea.
“You are very interested in English labour questions, Miss Abbeway,” he remarked, “considering that you are only half an Englishwoman.”