e the means to set the law in
motion, to choose where and how to live, and to dictate to others. That
is why the law is unjust. With every independent pound a year, this
equal law of yours--varies!"

"Phew!" said Stanley. "That's a proposition!"

"I give you a simple case. If I had chosen not to marry Tod but to live
with him in free love, we could have done it without inconvenience. We
have some independent income; we could have afforded to disregard what
people thought or did. We could have bought (as we did buy) our piece of
land and our cottage, out of which we could not have been turned. Since
we don't care for society, it would have made absolutely no difference to
our present position. But Tryst, who does not even want to defy the
law--what happens to him? What happens to hundreds of laborers all over
the country who venture to differ in politics, religion, or morals from
those who own them?"

'By George!' thought Stanley, 'it's true, in a way; I never looked at it
quite like that.' But the feeling that he had come to persuade her to be
reasonable, and the deeply rooted Englishry of him, conspired to make him
say:

"That's all very well; but, you see, it's only a necessary incident of
property-holding. You can't interfere with plain rights."

"You mean--an evil inherent in property-holding?"

"If you like; I don't split words. The lesser of two evils. What's your
remedy? You don't want to abolish property; you've confessed that
property gives YOU your independence!"

Again that curious quiver and flash!

"Yes; but if people haven't decency enough to see for themselves how the
law favors their independence, they must be shown that it doesn't pay to
do to others as they would hate to be done by."

"And you wouldn't try reasoning?"

"They are not amenable to reason."

Stanley took up his hat.

"Well, I think some of us are. I see your point; but, you know, violence
never did any good; it isn't--isn't English."

She did not answer. And, nonplussed thereby, he added lamely: "I should
have liked to have seen Tod and your youngsters. Remember me to them.
Clara sent her regards"; and, looking round the room in a rather lost
way, he held out his hand.

He had an impression of something warm and dry put into it, with even a
little pressure.

Back in the car, he said to his chauffeur, "Go home the other way,
Batter, past the church."

The vision of that kitchen, with its brick floor, its