’I declined to apply for it.  I thought—­But, Mr. Redworth, another thing, concerning us all:  I want very much to hear your ideas of the prospects of the League; because I know you have ideas.  The leaders are terrible men; they fascinate me.  They appear to move with an army of facts.  They are certainly carrying the country.  I am obliged to think them sincere.  Common agitators would not hold together, as they do.  They gather strength each year.  If their statistics are not illusory—­an army of phantoms instead of one of facts; and they knock at my head without admission, I have to confess; they must win.’

‘Ultimately, it is quite calculable that they will win,’ said Redworth; and he was led to discourse of rates and duties and prohibitive tariffs to a woman surprisingly athirst, curious for every scrap of intelligence relating to the power, organization, and schemes of the League.  ’Common sense is the secret of every successful civil agitation,’ he said.  ’Rap it unremittingly on crowds of the thickest of human heads, and the response comes at last to sweep all before it.  You may reckon that the country will beat the landlords—­for that is our question.  Is it one of your political themes?’

‘I am not presumptuous to such a degree:—­a poor scholar,’ Diana replied.  ‘Women striving to lift their heads among men deserve the sarcasm.’

He denied that any sarcasm was intended, and the lesson continued.  When she had shaped in her mind some portion of his knowledge of the subject, she reverted casually to her practical business.  Would he undertake to try to obtain a purchaser of The Crossways, at the price he might deem reasonable?  She left the price entirely to his judgement.  And now she had determined to part with the old place, the sooner the better!  She said that smiling; and Redworth smiled, outwardly and inwardly.  Her talk of her affairs was clearer to him than her curiosity for the mysteries of the League.  He gained kind looks besides warm thanks by the promise to seek a purchaser; especially by his avoidance of prying queries.  She wanted just this excellent automaton fac-totum; and she referred him to Mr. Braddock for the title-deeds, et caetera—­the chirping phrase of ladies happily washing their hands of the mean details of business.

‘How of your last work?’ he asked her.

Serenest equanimity rejoined:  ’As I anticipated, it is not popular.  The critics are of one mind with the public.  You may have noticed, they rarely flower above that rocky surface.  The cantatrice sings them a false note.  My next will probably please them less.’

Her mobile lips and brows shot the faint upper-wreath of a smile hovering.  It was designed to display her philosophy.

‘And what is the name of your next?’ said he.

‘I name it the man of two minds, if you can allow that to be in nature.’

‘Contra-distinguished from the woman?’