have you been doing to her, Gilbert?" she demanded.
"She's a changed woman!"

"Making love to her!" Deyes answered.

Lady Peggy laughed.

"If I believed you," she declared, "I'd give up this rubber and go and
lose myself amongst the palms with you. Come and cut in--you too,
Wilhelmina."

But Wilhelmina excused herself. She drove homewards with a soft smile
upon her lips, and the dead weight lifted from her heart.

CHAPTER XV

THE ONLY WAY

It was a round table, too, at which Macheson dined that night, but with
a different company. For they were all men who sat there, men with
earnest faces and thoughtful eyes. The graces of evening dress and
society talk they knew nothing of. They were the friends of Macheson's
college days, the men who had sworn amongst themselves that, however
they might live, they would devote the greater part of their life to
their fellow-creatures.

They were smoking pipes, and a great bowl of tobacco was on the table.
Few of them took wine, but Macheson and Holderness were drinking whisky.
Holderness, their senior, was usually the one who started their informal
talk.

"My work's been easy enough all the time," he remarked, leaning forward.
"There were no end of labour-papers, but all being run either for the
trades' unions, or some special industrial branch. I started a labour
magazine--Macheson found the money, of course--and I'm paying my way
now. I don't know whether the thing does any good. At any rate it's an
effort! I've been hearing about your colony, Franklin. I shall want an
article on it presently."

A tall, thin young man removed his pipe from his mouth.

"You shall have it as soon as I can find time," he answered. "We're
going strong, but really there's very little credit due to me. It was
Macheson's money and Macheson's idea. We've got an entire village now
near Llandirog, and the whole population come from the prisons. Macheson
and I used to attend the police-courts ourselves, hear all the cases,
and form our own conclusions as to the prisoners. If we thought there
was any hope for them, we made a note, met them when they came out, and
offered them a job, on probation--in our village. We have to leave it to
the chaplains now--I can't spare time to be always in London. We've two
woollen mills, a saw-mill, and a bakery, besides all the shops, and
nearly a thousand acres of well-farmed land. At first the people round
were terribly shy of us, but that's all over no