I think your
policy is a dangerous one."

"Let me explain that to you," he replied eagerly. "I think you do not
understand how the working classes feel, and I, even although my father
did not belong to that class, I--well, I have been a working-man. And
there is a shadow over my name, too, and over my mother's life. I
should like to tell you about that."

"Really, Mr. Stepaside, I have no right to hear."

"But I want you to," he urged, and his voice was tremulous. "You
really do not know, Miss Bolitho, all I have been thinking, and how I
long for you to know the truth. You must know it, too. You have had
harsh thoughts about me. Yes, you have been unjust to me, and it's my
right that you should know the truth. I wish you knew my mother, too.
If you did----"

His speech was here broken off by the advent of Ned Wilson, who came
from a side street. He seemed utterly surprised at seeing her and Paul
together, but, without taking any notice of Paul, he exclaimed, "Oh,
this is luck, Miss Bolitho! I am just returning home, and I shall have
the pleasure of walking back with you. Or, if you like, we will go
back to the mill together. There's a conveyance there."

"No, thank you," she replied. "I'd rather walk. Good-afternoon, Mr.
Stepaside. I hope you will--that is----" And then, without finishing
her sentence, she walked away by Ned Wilson's side, leaving Paul alone.

"Well, of all the impudence!" said Wilson angrily. His tone did not
please the girl. She was vexed with herself for allowing Paul to
accompany her, especially as she did not know why she should have done
such an unprecedented thing, but she resented Wilson's remark,
nevertheless. It seemed to suggest proprietorship.

"How in the world did you allow him to walk with you? Really, Miss
Bolitho, I cannot allow it!" And his voice was hot with anger.

"I am afraid I do not understand!" And Wilson saw that he had gone too
far.

"I mean, you do not know him. He's a low-bred clown, a fellow
who--well, who should not be seen walking with you, Miss Bolitho.
Besides, people will talk; they do not understand."

She did not know why it was, but she felt it was for her to defend
Paul, and, without thinking, she burst out, almost angrily, "I think
he's a magnificent fellow, and I do hope he'll win!"

"You hope he'll win?" cried Ned.

"Yes. You see, I like strong men--that is, I like men who will never
be beaten, who know what they want, and