hink it's rather good."

"Better than 'Turbulence' or 'The Wayward Man'?"

"Yes, I think so. I'm calling it 'The Fennels.' That's the name of the
people it's about. I've taken an Ulster family and ... well, that's what
I've done. I've taken an Ulster family and just shown it. My father
likes it much better than anything else I've done, although he was very
keen on 'Turbulence.'"

"How is your father?"

"Oh, much better, thanks, but still a bit shaky. He hates all this
Volunteer business in Ireland. You remember John Marsh, don't you, and
Galway? You saw them in Dublin that time!..." Gilbert nodded his head
and so Henry did not complete his sentence. "Well, they're up to their
necks in the opposition Volunteers. I saw John in Dublin yesterday for a
few minutes. He was very excited about the gun-running in Ulster! Damned
play-acting! He could hardly spare the time to say 'How are you?' to me,
he was so anxious to be off to his drilling. He hasn't done any writing
for a long time now. He's become very friendly with Mineely!..."

"Is that the Labour man?"

"Yes. I liked him when I met him, but he's frightfully bitter since the
strike. He's got more brains than all the others put together, and he
influences John tremendously. I don't wonder at his bitterness. The
employers _were_ brutal in that strike, Gilbert, and Mineely will never
forget it. He'll make trouble for them yet, and they'll deserve all they
get. He said to me 'They won't deal reasonably with us, so they can't
complain if we deal unreasonably with them. They set the police on to
us....'"

"What's he going to do then?"

"I don't know, but he's drilling his men as hard as ever he can. He
means to hit back. After he'd spoken about the police, he said, 'The
next time we go to them, we'll have guns in our hands. Mebbe they'll
listen to us then!' He's like John ... he doesn't care what happens to
himself. All those people, John and Galway and Mineely, have a contempt
for death that I can't understand. I loathe the thought of dying ... but
they don't seem to mind. It's their religion partly, I suppose, but it's
something more than religion. If they were poor, like the slum people, I
could understand it better. You can't frighten _them_ by threatening to
kill them. Their life is such a rotten one that they'd be much better
off if they were dead, even if there were no heaven, and I suppose they
feel that ... and of course the Catholic religion teaches them to