eave glanced at her
with lowered head.

"I think it's a shame!" she exclaimed.

"Do you know that the men broke the last award, not so very long since?"
said Osmond Orgreave. "What can you do with such people?"

"Broke the last award?" She was checked.

"Broke the last award! Wouldn't stick by their own agreement, their own
words. I'll just tell you. A wise young woman like you oughtn't to be
carried away by the sight of a procession on a cold night."

He smiled; and she smiled, but awkwardly.

And then he told her something of the case for the employers.

"How hard you are on the men!" she protested, when he had done.

"Not at all! Not at all!" He stretched himself, and came round his
trestles to poke the fire. "You should hear Mr. Clayhanger on the men,
if you want to know what hard is."

"Mr. Clayhanger? You mean old Mr. Clayhanger?"

"Yes."

"But he isn't a manufacturer."

"No. But he's an employer of labour."

Hilda rose uneasily from her chair, and walked towards the distant,
shadowed dressing-table.

"I should like to go over a printing-works," she said abruptly.

"Very easy," said Mr. Orgreave, resuming his work with a great expulsion
of breath.

Hilda thought: "Why did I say that?" And, to cover her constraint, she
cried out: "Oh, what a lovely book!"

A small book, bound in full purple calf, lay half hidden in a nest of
fine tissue paper on the dressing-table.

"Yes, isn't it?" said Mrs. Orgreave. "Tom brought it in to show me,
before he went this afternoon. It's a birthday present for Edie. He's
had it specially bound. I must write myself, and ask Edie to come over
and meet you. I'm sure you'd like her. She's a dear girl. I think Tom's
very fortunate."

"No, you don't," Osmond Orgreave contradicted her, with a great rustling
of paper. "You think Edie's very fortunate."

Hilda looked round, and caught the architect's smile.

"I think they're both fortunate," said Mrs. Orgreave simply. She had
almost no sense of humour. "I'm sure she's a real good girl, and clever
too."

"Clever enough to get on the right side of her future mother-in-law,
anyway!" growled Mr. Orgreave.

"Anyone might think Osmond didn't like the girl," said Mrs. Orgreave,
"from the way he talks. And yet he adores her! And it's no use him
pretending he doesn't!"

"I only adore you!" said Osmond.

"You needn't try to turn it off!" his wife murmured, beaming on Hilda.

Tears came strangely into Hilda's eyes, and