"—And you don't think much of the Socialists?"
"Well! they are the interesting, dreamy fellows," she said, laughing,
"who don't save, and muddle their lives. And as for argument, the
Socialist workman doesn't care twopence for facts—that don't suit him.
It's superb the way he treats them!"
"I should like to know who does care!" said Wharton, with a shrug. Then he turned with his back to the parapet, the better to command her. He had taken off his hat for coolness, and the wind played with the crisp curls of hair. "But tell me"—he went on—"who has been tampering with you? Is it Hallin? You told me you saw him often."
"Perhaps. But what if it's everything?—living?—saving your presence! A year ago at any rate the world was all black—or white—to me. Now I lie awake at night, puzzling my head about the shades between—which makes the difference. A compulsory Eight Hours' Day for all men in all trades!" Her note of scorn startled him. "You know you won't get it! And all the other big exasperating things you talk about—public organisation of labour, and the rest—you won't get them till all the world is a New Jerusalem—and when the world is a New Jerusalem nobody will want them!"
Wharton made her an ironical bow.
"Nicely said!—though we have heard it before. Upon my word, you have marched!—or Edward Hallin has carried you. So now you think the poor are as well off as possible, in the best of all possible worlds—is that the result of your nursing? You agree with Denny, in fact? the man who got up after me?"
His tone annoyed her. Then suddenly the name suggested to her a recollection that brought a frown.
"That was the man, then, you attacked in the Clarion this morning!"
"Ah! you read me!" said Wharton, with sudden pleasure. "Yes—that opened the campaign. As you know, of course, Craven has gone down, and the strike begins next week. Soon we shall bring two batteries to bear, he letting fly as correspondent, and I from the office. I enjoyed writing that article."
"So I should think," she said drily; "all I know is, it made one reader passionately certain that there was another side to the matter! There may not be. I dare say there isn't; but on me at least that was the effect. Why is it"—she broke out with vehemence—"that not a single Labour paper is ever capable of the simplest justice to an opponent?"