* * * * *

Meanwhile Marcella took a seat next to Miss Hallin, who looked up from her knitting to smile at her.  The girl fell into the attitude of listening; but for some minutes she was not listening at all.  She was reflecting how little men knew of each other!—­even the most intimate friends—­and trying to imagine what Aldous Raeburn would be like, married to such a charmer as Frank had sketched.  His friendship for her meant, of course, the attraction of contraries—­one of the most promising of all possible beginnings.  On the whole, she thought Frank’s chances were poor.

Then, unexpectedly, her ear was caught by Wharton’s name, and she discovered that what was going on beside her was a passionate discussion of his present position and prospects in the Labour party—­a discussion, however, mainly confined to Wilkins and the two workmen.  Bennett had the air of the shrewd and kindly spectator who has his own reasons for treating a situation with reserve; and Hallin was lying back in his chair flushed and worn out.  The previous debate, which had now merged in these questions of men and personalities, had made him miserable; he had no heart for anything more.  Miss Hallin observed him anxiously, and made restless movements now and then, as though she had it in her mind to send all her guests away.

The two Socialist workmen were talking strongly in favour of an organised and distinct Labour party, and of Wharton’s leadership.  They referred constantly to Parnell, and what he had clone for “those Irish fellows.”  The only way to make Labour formidable in the House was to learn the lesson of Unionism and of Parnellism, to act together and strike together, to make of the party a “two-handed engine,” ready to smite Tory and Liberal impartially.  To this end a separate organisation, separate place in the House, separate Whips—­they were ready, nay clamorous, for them all.  And they were equally determined on Harry Wharton as a leader.  They spoke of the Clarion with enthusiasm, and declared that its owner was already an independent power, and was, moreover, as “straight” as he was sharp.

The contention and the praise lashed Wilkins into fury.  After making one or two visible efforts at a sarcastic self-control which came to nothing, he broke out into a flood of invective which left the rest of the room staring.  Marcella found herself indignantly wondering who this big man, with his fierce eyes, long, puffy cheeks, coarse black hair, and North-country accent, might be.  Why did he talk in this way, with these epithets, this venom?  It was intolerable!

Hallin roused himself from his fatigue to play the peace-maker.  But some of the things Wilkins had been saying had put up the backs of the two workmen, and the talk flamed up unmanageably—­Wilkins’s dialect getting more pronounced with each step of the argument.