ces if you do," said
Tarvrille.

"Remington wants us to give up launching Dreadnoughts and launch babies
instead," Burshort urged. "For the price of one Dreadnought--"

The little shrivelled don who had been omniscient about guns joined in
the baiting, and displayed himself a venomous creature. Something in
his eyes told me he knew Isabel and hated me for it. "Love and fine
thinking," he began, a little thickly, and knocking over a wine-glass
with a too easy gesture. "Love and fine thinking. Two things don't go
together. No philosophy worth a damn ever came out of excesses of love.
Salt Lake City--Piggott--Ag--Agapemone again--no works to matter."

Everybody laughed.

"Got to rec'nise these facts," said my assailant. "Love and fine think'n
pretty phrase--attractive. Suitable for p'litical dec'rations. Postcard,
Christmas, gilt lets, in a wreath of white flow's. Not oth'wise
valu'ble."

I made some remark, I forget what, but he overbore me.

Real things we want are Hate--Hate and COARSE think'n. I b'long to the
school of Mrs. F's Aunt--"

"What?" said some one, intent.

"In 'Little Dorrit,'" explained Tarvrille; "go on!"

"Hate a fool," said my assailant.

Tarvrille glanced at me. I smiled to conceal the loss of my temper.

"Hate," said the little man, emphasising his point with a clumsy fist.
"Hate's the driving force. What's m'rality?--hate of rotten goings
on. What's patriotism?--hate of int'loping foreigners. What's
Radicalism?--hate of lords. What's Toryism?--hate of disturbance. It's
all hate--hate from top to bottom. Hate of a mess. Remington owned it
the other day, said he hated a mu'll. There you are! If you couldn't
get hate into an election, damn it (hic) people wou'n't poll. Poll for
love!--no' me!"

He paused, but before any one could speak he had resumed.

"Then this about fine thinking. Like going into a bear pit armed with a
tagle--talgent--talgent galv'nometer. Like going to fight a mad dog with
Shasepear and the Bible. Fine thinking--what we want is the thickes'
thinking we can get. Thinking that stands up alone. Taf Reform means
work for all, thassort of thing."

The gentleman from Cambridge paused. "YOU a flag!" he said. "I'd as soon
go to ba'ell und' wet tissue paper!"

My best answer on the spur of the moment was:

"The Japanese did." Which was absurd.

I went on to some other reply, I forget exactly what, and the talk of
the whole table drew round me. It was an extraordinary r