“He thinks,” was Glazzard’s reply, “that I am something worse than a high Tory.  It’s quite a mistake, and I don’t know how his belief originated.”

“My dear fellow, you are so naturally a Tory that you never troubled to think to what party you belong.  And I can understand you well enough; I have leanings that way myself.  Still, when I get down to Polterham I shall call myself a Radical.  What sensible man swears by a party?  There’s more foolery and dishonesty than enough on both sides, when you come to party quarrelling; but as for the broad principles concerned, why, Radicalism of course means justice.  I put it in this way:  If I were a poor devil, half starved and overworked, I should be a savage Radical; so I’ll go in for helping the poor devils.”

“You don’t. always act on that principle, Denzil,” said Lilian, with a rallying smile.  “Not, for instance, when beggars are concerned.”

“Beggars!  Would you have me support trading impostors?  As for the genuine cases—­why, if I found myself penniless in the streets, I would make such a row that all the country should hear of it!  Do you think I would go whining to individuals?  If I hadn’t food, it would be the duty of society to provide me with it—­and I would take good care that I was provided; whether m workhouse or gaol wouldn’t matter much.  At all events, the business should be managed with the maximum of noise.”

He emptied his wine-glass, and went on in the same vigorous tone.

“We know very well that there are no such things as natural rights.  Nature gives no rights; she will produce an infinite number of creatures only to torture and eventually destroy them.  But civilization is at war with nature, and as civilized beings we have rights.  Every man is justified in claiming food and shelter and repose.  As things are, many thousands of people in every English county either lack these necessaries altogether, or get them only in return for the accursed badge of pauperdom.  I, for one, am against this state of things, and I sympathize with the men who think that nothing can go right until the fundamental injustice is done away with.”

Glazzard listened with an inscrutable smile, content to throw in a word of acquiescence from time to time.  But when the necessity of appeasing his robust appetite held Quarrier silent for a few minutes, the guest turned to Lilian and asked her if she made a study of political questions.

“I have been trying to follow them lately,” she replied, with simple directness.

“Do you feel it a grievance that you have no vote and no chance of representing a borough?”

“No, I really don’t.”

“I defy any one to find a dozen women who sincerely do,” broke in Denzil.  “That’s all humbug!  Such twaddle only serves to obscure the great questions at issue.  What we have to do is to clear away the obvious lies and superstitions that hold a great part of the people in a degrading bondage.  Our need is of statesmen who are bold enough and strong enough to cast off the restraints of party, of imbecile fears, of words that answer to no reality, and legislate with honest zeal for the general good.  How many men are there in Parliament who represent anything more respectable than the interest of a trade, or a faction, or their own bloated person?”