So it seemed to many people in those days.  But eminent reformers have been now for more than seven years going about the walls of the Social Jericho, blowing their own trumpets and shouting—­with such small result beyond incidental displays of ill-temper within, that it is hard to recover the fine hopefulness of those departed days.

“Yes,” said Miss Heydinger.  “That would be a grand way.”

Lewisham appreciated the quality of personal emotion in her voice.  He turned his face towards her, and saw unstinted admiration in her eyes.  “It would be a great thing to do,” he said, and added, quite modestly, “if only one could do it.”

“You could do it.”

“You think I could?” Lewisham blushed vividly—­with pleasure.

“I do.  Certainly you could set out to do it.  Even to fail hopelessly would be Great.  Sometimes ...”

She hesitated.  He looked expectation.  “I think sometimes it is greater even to fail than to succeed.”

“I don’t see that,” said the proposed Luther, and his eyes went back to the Moses.  She was about to speak, and changed her mind.

Contemplative pause.

“And then, when a great number of people have heard of your views?” she said presently.

“Then I suppose we must form a party and ... bring things about.”

Another pause—­full, no doubt, of elevated thoughts.

“I say,” said Lewisham quite suddenly.  “You do put—­well—­courage into a chap.  I shouldn’t have done that Socialism paper if it hadn’t been for you.”  He turned round and stood leaning with his back to the Moses, and smiling at her.  “You do help a fellow,” he said.

That was one of the vivid moments of Miss Heydinger’s life.  She changed colour a little.  “Do I?” she said, standing straight and awkward and looking into his face, “I’m ... glad.”

“I haven’t thanked you for your letters,” said Lewisham, “And I’ve been thinking ...”

“Yes?”

“We’re first-rate friends, aren’t we?  The best of friends.”

She held out her hand and drew a breath.  “Yes,” she said as they gripped.  He hesitated whether to hold her hand.  He looked into her eyes, and at that moment she would have given three-quarters of the years she had still to live, to have had eyes and features that could have expressed her.  Instead, she felt her face hard, the little muscles of her mouth twitching insubordinate, and fancied that her self-consciousness made her eyes dishonest.

“What I mean,” said Lewisham, “is—­that this will go on.  We’re always going to be friends, side by side.”

“Always.  Just as I am able to help you—­I will help you.  However I can help you, I will.”

“We two,” said Lewisham, gripping her hand.

Her face lit.  Her eyes were for a moment touched with the beauty of simple emotion.  “We two,” she said, and her lips trembled and her throat seemed to swell.  She snatched her hand back suddenly and turned her face away.  Abruptly she walked towards the end of the gallery, and he saw her fumbling for her handkerchief in the folds of the green and black dress.