“An interesting face, your dinner companion’s,” he remarked.  “They tell me that she is a very brilliant young lady.”

“She certainly has gifts,” acknowledged Julian.

“I watched her whilst she was talking to you,” the Oxford don continued.  “She is one of those rare young women whose undoubted beauty is put into the background by their general attractiveness.  Lady Maltenby was telling me fragments of her history.  It appears that she is thinking of giving up her artistic career for some sort of sociological work.”

“It is curious,” Julian reflected, “how the cause of the people has always appealed to gifted Russians.  England, for instance, produces no real democrats of genius.  Russia seems to claim a monopoly of them.”

“There is nothing so stimulating as a sense of injustice for bringing the best out of a man or woman,” Doctor Lennard pointed out.  “Russia, of course, for many years has been shamefully misgoverned.”

The conversation, owing to the intervention of other of the guests, became general and platitudinal.  Soon after, Mr. Stenson rose and excused himself.  His secretary; who had been at the telephone, desired a short conference.  There was a brief silence after his departure.

“Stenson,” the Oxonian observed, “is beginning to show signs of strain.”

“Why not?” Lord Shervinton pointed out.  “He came into office full of the most wonderful enthusiasm.  His speeches rang through the world like a clarion note.  He converted waverers.  He lit fires which still burn.  But he is a man of movement.  This present stagnation is terribly irksome to him.  I heard him speak last week, and I was disappointed.  He seems to have lost his inspiration.  What he needs is a stimulus of some sort, even of disaster.”

“I wonder,” the Bishop reflected, “if he is really afraid of the people?”

“I consider his remark concerning them most ill-advised,” Lord Maltenby declared pompously.

“I know the people,” the Bishop continued, “and I love them.  I think, too, that they trust me.  Yet I am not sure that I cannot see a glimmering of what is at the back of Stenson’s mind.  There are a good many millions in the country who honestly believe that war is primarily an affair of the politicians; who believe, too, that victory means a great deal more to what they term `the upper classes’ than it does to them.  Yet, in every sense of the word, they are bearing an equal portion of the fight, because, when it comes down to human life, the life of the farm labourer’s son is of the same intrinsic value as the life of the peer’s.”

Lord Maltenby moved a little in his chair.  There was a slight frown upon his aristocratic forehead.  He disagreed entirely with the speaker, with whom he feared, however, to cross swords.  Mr. Hannaway Wells, who had been waiting for his opportunity, took charge of the conversation.  He spoke in a reserved manner, his fingers playing with the stem of his wineglass.