Ralph gave a little gasp. To see Sir John he would have to go to London. If he went to London, he might see Dorothy Hamblyn.
He did not speak for a moment. The sudden vision of Dorothy's face blotted out everything. It was curious how she dominated him still; how his heart turned to her constantly as the needle to the pole; how her face came up before him in the most unexpected places, and at the most unexpected times; how the thought of her lay at the back of all his enterprises and all his hopes.
"It means money going to London," he said at length.
"We must sow if we would reap," William replied, "and our balance at the bank is not quite exhausted yet. Don't forget that we are partners in this enterprise, and in any case we could sell the farm for a great deal more than we gave for it."
"We may be compelled to sell it yet," Ralph said ruefully.
"But not until we are compelled," was the cheerful reply. "No, no; if we don't win this time, it will not be for want of trying."
"My experience has not been encouraging," Ralph answered. "In every struggle so far, I have gone under. The strong have triumphed. Right and justice have been set aside."
"You have gone under only to come to the top again," William laughed.
"But think of father and mother."
"Martyrs in the sacred cause of freedom," William answered. "The rights of the people are not won in a day."