therewithal he half hoped that she might some day repent of yielding to
Quarrier's vulgar ambition.

"Have you made many acquaintances?" he asked.

"A good many. Some, very pleasant people; others--not so interesting."

"Polterham society will not absorb you, I think."

"I hope to have a good deal of quiet time. But Denzil wishes me to
study more from life than from books, just now. I must understand all
the subjects that interest him."

"Yes--the exact position, as a force in politics, of the licensed
victuallers; the demands of the newly enfranchised classes--that kind
of thing."

He seemed to be jesting, and she laughed good-humouredly.

"Those things are very important, Mr. Glazzard."

"Infinitely!"

He did not stay long, and upon his departure Lilian gave a sigh of
relief.

The next day he was to lunch with the Mumbrays. He went about twelve
o'clock, to spend an hour with Serena. His welcome was not ardent, and
he felt the oppression of a languor be hardly tried to disguise. Yet in
truth his cause had benefited whilst he was away. The eloquent letters
did not fail of their effect; Serena had again sighed under domestic
tyranny, had thought with longing of a life in London, and was once
more swayed by her emotions towards an early marriage.

In dearth of matter for conversation (Glazzard sitting taciturn), she
spoke of an event which had occupied Polterham for the last day or two.
Some local genius had conceived the idea of wrecking an express train,
and to that end had broken a portion of the line.

"What frightful wickedness!" she exclaimed. "What motive can there have
been, do you think?"

"Probably none, in the sense you mean."

"Yes--such a man must be mad."

"I don't think that," said Glazzard, meditatively. "I can understand
his doing it with no reason at all but the wish to see what would
happen. No doubt he would have been standing somewhere in sight."

"You can _understand_ that?"

"Very well indeed," he answered, in the same half-absent way. "Power of
all kinds is a temptation to men. A certain kind of man--not
necessarily cruel--would be fascinated with the thought of bringing
about such a terrific end by such slight means."

"Not necessarily cruel? Oh, I can't follow you at all. You are not
serious."

"I have shocked you." He saw that he had really done so, and felt that
it was imprudent. His tact suggested a use for the situation. "Serena,
why should you speak so conventional