es_ became as the breath of life to the
Tory tradition and burst from its columns as the breath of a fiery
furnace upon all that was opposed to the Tory tradition. The proprietor
felt that his knighthood was assured as soon as the tide of liberalism
turned; and the _County Times_, which could not notice even a Baptist
harvest festival without snorting fire and brimstone upon it, said that
the tide of radicalism--it did not print the words Liberal or
Liberalism--was turning every day. About once a week the _County Times_
said that the tide of radicalism "definitely turned last night."

Pike was a man of extraordinarily violent language. Consequent, no
doubt, on the restraint of having to write always in printable language,
his vocal discussion of the subjects on which he wrote was mainly in
unprintable. He spoke of trade-unionists always as "those swine and
dogs" and of the members of the Government as "those dogs and
swine",--swine and dogs being refined and temperate euphuisms for the
epithets Mr. Pike actually employed.

However he heard Sabre's stumbling periods tolerantly out and tolerantly
dealt with him.

"Excuse me, Sabre, but that sort of stuff's absolutely fatal--fatal.
It's simply compromise. Compromise. The most fatal defect in the English
character."

Sabre happened to be stout enough on this particular point. "That's
just what it isn't. Precisely what it isn't. I loathe compromise. More
than anything. Compromise is accepting a little of what you know to be
wrong in order to get a little of what you imagine to be right."

Pike made a swift note in shorthand on his blotting pad. "Exactly.
Well?"

"Well, that's just the opposite to what I mean. I mean accepting,
admitting, what you know to be _right_."

Pike smote his hand upon the blotting pad. "But, damn it, those dogs and
swine never _are_ right."

"There you are!" said Sabre.

And there they were, shouting, smashing; and Sabre could not do either
and retired dismayed from the arenas of both.

CHAPTER II

I

It much affected his relations with those nearest to him,--with Mabel,
with Mr. Fortune, and with Twyning. In those months, and in the months
following, the year changing and advancing in equal excitements and
strong opinions through winter into spring, he found himself
increasingly out of favour at The Precincts and increasingly estranged
in his home. And it was his own fault. Detached and reflective in the
fond detachment of the