“It’s reported,” Mrs. Wade went on, “that Mrs. Quarrier has been distributing money—­money in handfuls, through half-a-dozen streets down by the river.”

“You don’t really mean”——­began Lilian, who could not even yet quite command her voice.

“It’s positively going about!  I thought it my duty to come and tell you at once.  What is the foundation?”

“I warned you, Lily,” said Denzil, good-humouredly.  “The fact is, Mrs. Wade, she gave half-a-crown to some old woman in Water Lane this afternoon.  It was imprudent, of course.  Who told you about it?”

“Mr. Rook, the stationer.  It was talked of up and down High Street, he assures me.  We may laugh, but this kind of misrepresentation goes a long way.”

“Let the blackguards make the most of it!” cried Quarrier.  “I have as good things in store for them.  One of Jobson’s workmen told me this morning that he and his fellows were being distinctly intimidated; Jobson has told them several times that if the Radicals won, work would be scarce, and that the voters would have only themselves to thank for it.  And Thomas Barker has been promising lowered rents at Lady-day.”

“But who could have told such falsehoods about me?” asked Lilian.

“Some old woman who didn’t get the half-crown, no doubt,” replied Mrs. Wade.

“Those poor creatures I went to see have no vote.”

“Oh, but handfuls of money, you know!  It’s the impression made on the neighbourhood.  Seriously, they are driven to desperate resources; and I believe there is a good deal of intimidation going on—­especially on the part of district-visitors.  Mrs. Alexander told me of several instances.  And the wives (of course) are such wretched cowards!  That great big carpenter, East, is under his wife’s thumb, and she has been imploring him not to vote Liberal for fear of consequences—­she sits weeping, and talking about the workhouse.  Contemptible idiot!  It would gratify me extremely to see her really going to the workhouse.”

“And pray,” asked Denzil, with a laugh, “what would be the result of giving the franchise to such women?”

“The result might be that, in time to come, there wouldn’t be so many of them.”

“In time to come—­possibly.  In the meanwhile, send their girls to school to learn a wholesome contempt for their mothers.”

“Oh, Denzil!”

“Well, it sounds brutal, but it’s very good sense.  All progress involves disagreeable necessities.”

Mrs. Wade was looking about the room, smiling, absent.  She rose abruptly.

“I mustn’t spoil your one quiet evening.  How do the proofs go on?”

“Would you care to take a batch of them?” asked Quarrier.  “These are revises—­you might be able to make a useful suggestion.”

She hesitated, but at length held out her band.

“You have rather a long walk,” said Lilian.  “I hope it’s fine.”