felt there was something morose and sullen, if not
savage, in his nature, and even while she spoke pleasantly to him in
her father's presence, the thought of being alone with him in such a
way would have been deemed impossible. Directly he had suggested
walking home with her, however, she felt she must fall in with his
desire. There was something in him that interested her and almost
mastered her.

"You thought I was rude, didn't you?" he continued. "Well, I
apologise, humbly and sincerely. But perhaps there was some excuse for
me. Your father treated me badly, and, naturally, I associated you
with him."

"You mistake my father," she said. "He would never treat anyone badly."

"He was unjust to me," said Paul. "I know that barristers are supposed
to do their best for their employers, but through him I suffered unjust
imprisonment. He did not try to arrive at the truth. He only tried to
win his case, and, in so doing, he stopped at nothing to make it hard
for me. I am thinking now of that riot trouble. Of course, you heard
that I was innocent of the affair?"

"Yes, I have," she replied. "I am very sorry. But surely you
understand my father's position?"

"I can never understand injustice," he replied. "Still, it was not
your fault, and I acted to you like a brute. Besides all that, you
were a friend of the Wilsons, and Ned Wilson hates me."

"Why should he hate you?" asked the girl.

"I will not tell you that," replied Paul. "That would be stabbing a
man in the back, and I will not be guilty of that. Anyhow, years ago,
I incurred Ned Wilson's enmity by telling him certain home truths. He
has never forgiven me. But for the stories he set afloat and his
action towards me I should have won the last election. All this made
me bitter towards you."

"I wonder," she replied, "if you feel so angry towards me, that you
should care to make these explanations." And she did not understand at
all why she spoke. They were some little distance from the roar of the
traffic now, and could hear each other plainly.

"I want you to think well of me," he said.

"Why should you?" she asked.

"I cannot tell you now," replied Paul. "But some day I should like to.
You wish me good luck in this fight, don't you?"

"How can I," she asked, "when I look at things so differently? I think
I admire your pluck, and if I were in your place I should be proud of
the influence you have over the working-men; but, then,