to what one always felt was at the
bottom of it--that the Radicals' real supporters were the urban classes;
so that their policy must not go too far with 'the Land,' for fear of
seeming to neglect the towns. For, after all, in the end it was out of
the pockets of the towns that 'the Land' would have to be financed, and
nobody really could expect the towns to get anything out of it. Stanley
paused in the adjustment of his tie; his wife was a shrewd woman.

"You've hit it there," he said. "Wiltram will give it him hot on that,
though."

Of course, Clara assented. And it was magnificent that they had got
Henry Wiltram, with his idealism and his really heavy corn tax; not
caring what happened to the stunted products of the towns--and they truly
were stunted, for all that the Radicals and the half-penny press
said--till at all costs we could grow our own food. There was a lot in
that.

"Yes," Stanley muttered, "and if he gets on to it, shan't I have a jolly
time of it in the smoking-room? I know what Cuthcott's like with his
shirt out."

Clara's eyes brightened; she was very curious herself to see Mr. Cuthcott
with his--that is, to hear him expound the doctrine he was always writing
up, namely, that 'the Land' was gone and, short of revolution, there was
nothing for it but garden cities. She had heard he was so cutting and
ferocious that he really did seem as if he hated his opponents. She
hoped he would get a chance--perhaps Felix could encourage him.

"What about the women?" Stanley asked suddenly. "Will they stand a
political powwow? One must think of them a bit."

Clara had. She was taking a farewell look at herself in the far-away
mirror through the door into her bedroom. It was a mistake--she
added--to suppose that women were not interested in 'the Land.' Lady
Britto was most intelligent, and Mildred Malloring knew every cottage on
her estate.

"Pokes her nose into 'em often enough," Stanley muttered.

Lady Fanfar again, and Mrs. Sleesor, and even Hilda Martlett, were
interested in their husbands, and Miss Bawtrey, of course, interested in
everything. As for Maude Ughtred, all talk would be the same to her; she
was always week-ending. Stanley need not worry--it would be all right;
some real work would get done, some real advance be made. So saying, she
turned her fine shoulders twice, once this way and once that, and went
out. She had never told even Stanley her ambition that at Becket, under
h