Mr. Tyrrell made inarticulate noises, and at length laughed.

‘He must amuse himself in his own way.’

‘But after all, papa,’ said Paula, whose advocacy went much by the rule of contraries, ’it must be a good thing to give people books to read.  I dare say it prevents them from going to the public-house.’

‘Shouldn’t wonder if it does, Paula,’ he replied, with a benevolent gaze.

‘Then what’s your objection?’

’I don’t object to the library in particular.  It’s only that Egremont isn’t the man to do these kind of things.  It is to be hoped that he’ll get tired of it, and find something more in his line.’

‘What is his line?’

’Ah, that’s the question!  Very likely he hasn’t one at all.  It seems to me there’s a good many young fellows in that case nowadays.  They have education, they have money, and they don’t know what the deuce to do with either one or the other.  They’re a cut above you, Mr. Jack; it isn’t enough for them to live and enjoy themselves.  So they get it into their heads that they’re called upon to reform the world —­a nice handy little job, that’ll keep them going.  The girls, I notice, are beginning to have the same craze.  I shouldn’t wonder if Paula gets an idea that she’ll be a hospital-nurse, or go district-visiting in Bethnal Green.’

‘I certainly should if I thought it would amuse me,’ said Paula.  ’But why shouldn’t Mr. Egremont do work of this kind?  He’s in earnest; he doesn’t only do it for fun.’

’Of course he’s in earnest, and there’s the absurdity of it.  Social reform, pooh!  Why, who are the real social reformers?  The men who don’t care a scrap for the people, but take up ideas because they can make capital out of them.  It isn’t idealists who do the work of the world, but the hard-headed, practical, selfish men.  A big employer of labour ’ll do more good in a day, just because he sees profit ’ll come of it, than all the mooning philanthropists in a hundred years.  Nothing solid has ever been gained in this world that wasn’t pursued out of self-interest.  Look at Dalmaine.  How much do you think he cares for the factory-hands he’s always talking about?  But he’ll do them many a good turn; he’ll make many a life easier; and just because it’s his business to do so, because it’s the way of advancing himself.  He aims at being Home Secretary one of these days, and I shouldn’t wonder if he is.  There’s your real social reformer.  Egremont’s an amateur, a dilettante.  In many ways he’s worth a hundred of Dalmaine, but Dalmaine will benefit the world, and it’s well if Egremont doesn’t do harm.’

In all which it is not impossible that Mr. John Tyrrell hit the nail on the head.  Much satisfied with his little oration, he went off to don a jacket and enjoy a cigar by his smoking-room fire.

A couple of days later, Mr. Dalmaine called at the house before luncheon.  After speaking with Mrs. Tyrrell, he had a private interview with Paula.  The event was referred to in a letter Paula addressed to her cousin Annabel in the course of the ensuing week.