“We were interested to hear,” said Mr. Collinson.
“Of a perversion,” said Godalming.
“Godalming withholds from Mr. Hepplestall the light of his approval,” said Mr. Seccombe, “but—”
“Approve a turn-coat that was once a gentleman? Why, he has dined at Brooks’ and now blacks his sweaty hands with coal. Is there defense for him?” asked Godalming.
“I am prepared to defend him,” said Seccombe.
“Then you’re a Jacobin.” Godalming turned an outraged back.
“Verners will correct me if I am wrong,” said Collinson, “but we hear of Mr. Hepplestall that he has a great steam-driven factory, with a small town at its feet, and by his steam is driving out of trade the older traders in his district. Is that true?”
“Entirely,” said Mr. Verners, “though it staggers me that news of so small a matter has traveled so far and so fast.”
“Some of us have our eyes on steam,” said Seccombe, “and some of us,” he eyed Godalming with severity, “some of us prefer that a power like steam should be in the hands of men of our order.”
“But they cannot be of our order,” protested Verners, scandalized. “They cease, of their own conduct, to be of our order.”