“I see,” said Lady Phayre, with kindling cheeks, “they want a strong man with a strong will; a leader of men.” She put out her hand impulsively. “I am so proud.”
The words and the touch of her hand quivered deliciously through Goddard’s frame.
“It is the biggest thing I have been called upon to do yet,” he said. “Of course I have no official position in the matter; I cannot approach the masters in any way. But the Union has guaranteed free action; placed itself unreservedly in my hands. All the responsibility is practically mine. I shall win,” he added, after a pause, during which he took three or four strides backwards and forwards in the room. “Somehow I feel it. I have eternal justice on my side. Oh, to think what success will mean for all these people!”
“And for you, my friend,” said Lady Phayre. “Win, and there’s Parliament for you with a triumphant majority.”
He looked at her for a moment open-mouthed. She saw a new intelligence dawn in his glance.
“Do you mean to tell me you never thought of that?” she asked quickly.
“No,” he said simply; “it had not struck me.” Lady Phayre turned her face from him, and buttoned her glove. There are some feelings which rush into a woman’s eyes that it is not advisable to show to the man who evokes them. When she had slipped the last button she looked up at him smilingly.
“I think you’re the only man in England who could have said that. When do you commence operations?”
“The day after to-morrow. There will be a big open-air demonstration. Then I’ll settle down to regular work—visiting, picketing, speechifying, overhauling the books, agitating for help from cognate trades. I shall have my hands full.”
He prepared to take his departure, seeing that she was going out.