Section 3

They had gone on to talk of her father and of the types of men who controlled international business.  She had had plentiful opportunities for observation in their homes and her own.  Gunter Lake, the big banker, she knew particularly well, because, it seemed, she had been engaged or was engaged to marry him.  “All these people,” she said, “are pushing things about, affecting millions of lives, hurting and disordering hundreds of thousands of people.  They don’t seem to know what they are doing.  They have no plans in particular....  And you are getting something going that will be a plan and a direction and a conscience and a control for them?  You will find my father extremely difficult, but some of our younger men would love it.

“And,” she went on; “there are American women who’d love it too.  We’re petted.  We’re kept out of things.  We aren’t placed.  We don’t get enough to do.  We’re spenders and wasters—­not always from choice.  While these fathers and brothers and husbands of ours play about with the fuel and power and life and hope of the world as though it was a game of poker.  With all the empty unspeakable solemnity of the male.  And treat us as though we ought to be satisfied if they bring home part of the winnings.

“That can’t go on,” she said.

Her eyes went back to the long, low, undulating skyline of the downs.  She spoke as though she took up the thread of some controversy that had played a large part in her life.  “That isn’t going on,” she said with an effect of conclusive decision.

Sir Richmond recalled that little speech now as he returned from Salisbury station to the Old George after his farewell to Martineau.  He recalled too the soft firmness of her profile and the delicate line of her lifted chin.  He felt that this time at any rate he was not being deceived by the outward shows of a charming human being.  This young woman had real firmness of character to back up her free and independent judgments.  He smiled at the idea of any facile passion in the composition of so sure and gallant a personality.  Martineau was very fine-minded in many respects, but he was an old maid; and like all old maids he saw man and woman in every encounter.  But passion was a thing men and women fell back upon when they had nothing else in common.  When they thought in the pleasantest harmony and every remark seemed to weave a fresh thread of common interest, then it wasn’t so necessary.  It might happen, but it wasn’t so necessary....  If it did it would be a secondary thing to companionship.  That’s what she was,—­a companion.

But a very lovely and wonderful companion, the companion one would not relinquish until the very last moment one could keep with her.

Her views about America and about her own place in the world seemed equally fresh and original to Sir Richmond.