“Do you really attach much importance to the right of voting, and so on?”

“‘And so on!’ That covers a great deal, Mr. Quarrier.  I attach all importance to a state of things which takes for granted that women stand on a level with children.”

“So they do—­with an inappreciable number of exceptions.  You must be perfectly well aware of that.”

“And so you expect me to be satisfied with it?—­I insist on the franchise, because it symbolizes full citizenship.  I won’t aim at anything less than that.  Women must be taught to keep their eyes on that, as the irreducible minimum of their demands.”

“We mustn’t argue.  You know that I think they must be taught to look at quite different things.”

“Yes; but what those things are you have left me in doubt.  We will talk it over when you have more time to spare.  Do you know my address?  Pear-tree Cottage, Rickstead Road.  I shall be very glad to see you if ever you care to call.”

Denzil made his acknowledgments, shook hands, and left the room.

When his step sounded in the hall, the housekeeper appeared and conducted him to the upper stories.  He examined everything attentively, but in silence; his features expressed grave thought.  Mr. and Mrs. Hornibrook, he was told, were living in Guernsey, and had resolved to make that island their permanent abode.  A Polterham solicitor was their agent for the property.

Denzil was given to acting on the spur of the moment.  There might be dwellings obtainable that would suit him better than this, but he did not care to linger in the business.  As he passed out of the iron gates he made up his mind that the house, with necessary repairs, would do very well; and straightway he turned his steps to the office of the agent.

CHAPTER IX

The village of Rickstead lay at some five miles’ distance from that suburb of Polterham where dwelt Mr. Toby Liversedge, Mr. Mumbray (the Mayor), Mr. Samuel Quarrier, and sundry other distinguished townsfolk.  A walk along the Rickstead Bead was a familiar form of exercise with the less-favoured people who had their homes in narrow streets; for on either side of the highway lay an expanse of meadows, crossed here and there by pleasant paths which led to the surrounding hamlets.  In this direction no factories had as yet risen to deform the scene.

Darkness was falling when Quarrier set forth to keep his appointment with Eustace Glazzard at the Coach and Horses Inn.  The road-lamps already glimmered; there would be no moon, but a soft dusky glow lingered over half the sky, and gave promise of a fair night.  Denzil felt his boyhood revive as he got clear of the new houses, and began to recognize gates, trees, banks, and stiles; he could not say whether he enjoyed the sensation, but it served to combat certain troublesome thoughts which had beset him since the morning.  He was experiencing reaction after the excitement of the last two days.  A change from the orderly domesticities of his sister’s house had become necessary to him, and he looked forward with satisfaction to the evening he had planned.