‘Do you call it ignoble,’ broke in Adela, ’to aim at raising men from hopeless and degrading toil to a life worthy of human beings?’

’The end which you have in mind cannot be ignoble.  But it is not to be reached by means such as these.’  He pointed down to the valley.  ’That may be the only way of raising the standard of comfort among people who work with their hands; I take the standpoint of the wholly unpractical man, and say that such efforts do not concern me.  From my point of view no movement can be tolerated which begins with devastating the earth’s surface.  You will clothe your workpeople better, you will give them better food and more leisure; in doing so you injure the class that has finer sensibilities, and give power to the class which not only postpones everything to material well-being, but more and more regards intellectual refinement as an obstacle in the way of progress.  Progress—­the word is sufficient; you have only to think what it has come to mean.  It will be good to have an example of reaction.’

‘When reaction means misery to men and women and little children?’

’Yes, even if it meant that.  As far as I am concerned, I trust it will have no such results.  You must distinguish between humanity and humanitarianism.  I hope I am not lacking in the former; the latter seems to me to threaten everything that is most precious in the world.’

’Then you are content that the majority of mankind should be fed and clothed and kept to labour?’

’Personally, quite content; for I think it very unlikely that the majority will ever be fit for anything else.  I know that at present they desire nothing else.’

‘Then they must be taught to desire more.’

Hubert again paused.  When he resumed it was with a smile which strove to be good-humoured.

’We had better not argue of these things.  If I said all that I think you would accuse me of brutality.  In logic you will overcome me.  Put me down as one of those who represent reaction and class-prejudice.  I am all prejudice.’

Adela rose.

‘We have talked a long time,’ she said, trying to speak lightly.  ’We have such different views.  I wish there were less class-prejudice.’

Hubert scarcely noticed her words.  She was quitting him, and he clung to the last moment of her presence.

‘Shall you go—­eventually go to London?’ he asked.

‘I can’t say.  My husband has not yet been able to make plans.’

The word irritated him.  He half averted his face.

‘Good-bye, Mr. Eldon.’

She did not offer her hand—­durst not do so.  Hubert bowed without speaking.

When she was near the Manor gates she heard footsteps behind her.  She turned and saw her husband.  Her cheeks flushed, for she had been walking in deep thought.  It seemed to her for an instant as if the subject of her preoccupation could be read upon her face.