"Ah, that's interesting. And which side will you take—Conservative or Liberal? Conservative, I suppose?"
"No; I should stand as a Labour candidate."
"As a——Surely I didn't hear you aright?"
"Quite right. My sympathies have come to lie in that direction."
"But—but—a Labour Member! I thought you had some pretensions to be a gentleman."
Dick felt as though he had received the lash of a whip. He wanted to lash back, to make Romanoff feel what he felt. But no words came.
"You have no sympathy with the working classes?" he asked feebly.
"Sympathy! What gentleman could? See what they've done in my own country. I had little sympathy with Nicky; but great heavens, think! Of course I'm angry. I had estates in Russia; they had been in the families for centuries—and now! But the thing is a nightmare! Working classes, eh! I'd take every mal-content in Europe and shoot him. What are the working classes but lazy, drunken swine that should be bludgeoned into obedience?"
"I don't think you understand the British working classes," was Dick's response.
"No? I'm sure I don't want to. I prefer my own class. But pray don't let me keep you from them. Good evening."