Abandoning his rhetoric, David began to speak more slowly and calmly, of the possibility of forming an agricultural union, of the progress towards self-government already made in industry, and of the suggested centres for labour organization.
Opposite him a square uncurtained window glowed, faintly luminous, like a pale jewel in the painted wall. A round moon rode across the window pane, followed by a trail of tattered clouds, smoke white on a clear sky of delicate blue. David, glancing up, saw it and stood fascinated by the contrast between the room, reeking with tobacco and oil, the red glow of firelight on faces and clothes and knotted hands, the oppressive clamour of that little company, and the cold perfection of the moon. It mocked him, that remote beauty. It made him suddenly aware of the emptiness of his rhetoric and of the hopelessness of his task, but he responded gallantly to the challenge of its indifference. He turned again to his audience, who were becoming restive now, bored by the duller description of practical details after the excitement of denunciation.
"Of course there will be difficulties," he added, smiling as though these would be welcomed rather than dreaded. "But since I came north I've discovered that nothing is impossible to a Yorkshire man except shooting a fox or riding over seeds."
"There's another thing I'll be telling you is impossible!" said Mike O'Flynn from his seat near the door.
"And what's that?" David inquired confidently. He was showing a brave face to the cynical moon, that still sneered from the window upon the folly of human aspirations.
"And that's for an interfering stranger like yourself to be blarneying us into thinking we could be better off than we are. And sure it isn't Mike O'Flynn you'll be telling is an animal, without feeling the weight of his fist!"
"Oh. This is interesting. You are satisfied with your condition then?"
"Satisfied, bedad! I'd like to know of anyone who isn't if he works for Robsons of Anderby Wold."
David gave a slight ironical bow. "Gentlemen," he said, "allow me to introduce to you an agricultural labourer without a grievance! May I congratulate you, sir, on your contented disposition, no less than on your unique blindness of the truth of your situation?"
It was a mistake. Mike had reached that border line between sobriety and intoxication, when the sense of personal dignity is most vulnerable. He became deeply incensed.