"I don't see that at all. Working people have no time for poetry and pretty things. Their lives are very different."
"You are indeed mistaken. Much of the misery and the vice amongst the very poorest people are caused by the squalor and absence of any charm or higher influence in their lives. This is so well recognised that many people are spending time and money in trying to improve the look of things for the poor. Think, Mr. Stevens," said Margaret, earnestly, "only think what it must be for a hard-working man to go home to a wretched, comfortless room, without paper on the walls, or an atom of home-look about the place, a tired-out wife, and children cross because their natural energies have no outlet. If he could go home to a comfortable room with cheerful colour about it and find it clean. If the children, instead of having access only to the grimy streets, could play in the squares and gardens, so selfishly shut up from them now, their lives would be better, they would take heart, and not find the one relief, the public-house afterwards."
"And a nice sight the squares and gardens would be, in a very short time," Mr. Stevens said, a little moved by Margaret's extreme earnestness, and trying to hide that it affected him.
"Why should they be? Look at the Temple gardens, look at places already open to the public! I would give anything to see all these places thrown open to all."
"And in Paris everything is open, and who shall say we are less well-behaved than the French?" said Sir Albert, backing her up.
"Two against one is hardly fair," said Mr. Stevens, the last shred of prejudice dropping from him, and beginning to find that there was something very delightful in a man who could talk of something besides work.
When after another hour Sir Albert got out of the train Mr. Stevens was quite cordial in expressing his hope that they would meet again at no distant time.
Before they parted, Sir Albert, with a glance at Margaret, promised to send him a book of poetry that would convert him.
"I am going to travel for a year or so," he continued, turning to Margaret, "then I also shall go to Scotland."
She understood what he meant. He was very kind and very thoughtful; but that now—that could never be!