Between three and four o’clock, half a dozen people, on different devices, tried to draw Elisabeth from her retirement.  Her particular friend called to suggest a round of the picture galleries, tea at the club, and a motor ride to Ranelagh.  Lord Carton repeated his invitation to a game of golf.  Two people invited her out into the country on various pretexts.  Her dressmaker rang up and begged for her presence without delay.  To all of these importunities Elisabeth remained deaf.  She sat in her room in an easy-chair drawn up to the open window, with a book in her hand at which she scarcely glanced.  Her thoughts were with the five men downstairs.  Every now and then she glanced at the clock.  She heard the conference break up.  She sat quite still, listening.  Presently there was the sound of a firm tread upon the stairs.  She closed her book and breathed a little sigh.  A servant ushered in Maraton.

“You have not forgotten, then,” she said softly.  “Come and sit in my favourite chair and rest for a few moments.  I am sure that you must be tired.”

He sank down with an air of content.  She sat upon the end of the sofa, close to him, her head resting upon her hands.

“Well,” she asked, “have you converted Sir William?”

“Up to a certain extent, I believe,” he answered, after a momentary hesitation.  “I don’t think that he trusts me.  Lawyers have a habit of not trusting people, you know.  On the other hand, I don’t think he means to give any trouble.  Of course, they don’t like what they have to face.  No one does.  It isn’t every one who has the sagacity of your uncle.”

“I am glad,” she said, “that you appreciate him.  Tell me now what is going to happen?”

“Mr. Foley will have his own way,” Maraton declared.  “The Manchester strike will be over in a few days.  The Sheffield strike will be dealt with in the same manner.  People will talk about the great loss of trade, the shocking depreciation of profits, the lowered incomes of the people, and all that sort of thing.  What will really happen will be that the investor and the manufacturer are going to pay, and Labour is going to get just about a tithe of its own in these two cases.  The country will be none the poorer.  The money will be still there, only its distribution will be saner.”

“And the end of it?” she murmured.  “What will the end of it be?”

“We can none of us tell that;” he answered gravely.  “There are some, like Sir William, who insist that when Labour has once started, as it will have started after Sheffield, there will be no holding it.  I can not answer for it.  I only say that the course Mr. Foley has adopted is distinctly the best for the country.  If an obstinate man had been in his place to-day, nothing could have saved you from civil war first and possibly from foreign conquest later.”

“A month ago,” she observed, “you seemed fully prepared for these things.”