“Imperialism,” he declared, “has never been in the foreground of my programme, but I call myself an Imperialist.  I have done what I could for the colonies.  I have even abandoned on their behalf some of my pet principles of absolute freedom in trade.”

“You certainly have not been prejudiced,” she admitted.  “Whether your politics have been those of an Imperialist from the broadest point of view—­well, we won’t discuss that question just now.  We might, perhaps, differ.  But there is just one more point.  Zealously and during the whole of your career, you have set your face steadfastly against any increase of our military power.  They say that it is chiefly due to you and Mr. Busby that our army to-day is weaker in numbers than it has been for years.  You have set your face steadily against all schemes for national service.  You have taken up the stand that England can afford to remain neutral, whatever combination of Powers on the Continent may fight.  Now tell me, do you see any possibility of failure, from the standpoint of a great politician, in your attitude?”

“I do not,” he answered.  “On the contrary, I am proud of all that I have done in that direction.  For the reduction of our armaments I accept the full responsibility.  It is true that I have opposed national service.  I want to see the people develop commercially.  The withdrawing of a million of young men, even for a month every year, from their regular tasks, would not only mean a serious loss to the manufacturing community, but it would be apt to unsettle and unsteady them.  Further, it would kindle in this country the one thing I am anxious to avoid—­the military spirit.  We do not need it, Duchess.  We are a peace-loving nation, civilised out of the crude lust for conquest founded upon bloodshed.  I do believe that geographically and from every other point of view, England, with her navy, can afford to fold her arms, and if other nations should at any time be foolish enough to imperil their very existence by fighting for conquest or revenge, then we, who are strong enough to remain aloof, can only grow richer and stronger by the disasters which happen to them.”

There was a momentary silence.  The Duchess leaned back in her chair, and Mr. Hebblethwaite, always the courteous host, talked for a while to the woman on his left.  The Duchess, however, reopened the subject a few minutes later.

“I come, you must remember, Mr. Hebblethwaite,” she observed, “from long generations of soldiers, and you, as you have reminded me, from a long race of yeomen and tradespeople.  Therefore, without a doubt, our point of view must be different.  That, perhaps, is what makes conversation between us so interesting.  To me, a conflict in Europe, sooner or later, appears inevitable.  With England preserving a haughty and insular neutrality, which, from her present military condition, would be almost compulsory, the struggle would be between Russia, France,