Thus far in their pursuit of methods for the government of a nation, to make it happy, Diana was leader.  Her fine ardour and resonance, and more than the convincing ring of her voice, the girl’s impassioned rapidity in rushing through any perceptible avenue of the labyrinth, or beating down obstacles to form one, and coming swiftly to some solution, constituted her the chief of the pair of democratic rebels in questions that clamoured for instant solution.  By dint of reading solid writers, using the brains they possessed, it was revealed to them gradually that their particular impatience came perhaps of the most earnest desire to get to a comfortable termination of the inquiry:  the heart aching for mankind sought a nest for itself.  At this point Lady Dunstane took the lead.  Diana had to be tugged to follow.  She could not accept a ‘perhaps’ that cast dubiousness on her disinterested championship.  She protested a perfect certainty of the single aim of her heart outward.  But she reflected.  She discovered that her friend had gone ahead of her.

The discovery was reached, and even acknowledged, before she could persuade herself to swallow the repulsive truth.  O self! self! self! are we eternally masking in a domino that reveals your hideous old face when we could be most positive we had escaped you?  Eternally! the desolating answer knelled.  Nevertheless the poor, the starving, the overtaxed in labour, they have a right to the cry of Now! now!  They have; and if a cry could conduct us to the secret of aiding, healing, feeding, elevating them, we might swell the cry.  As it is, we must lay it on our wits patiently to track and find the secret; and meantime do what the individual with his poor pittance can.  A miserable contribution! sighed the girl.  Old Self was perceived in the sigh.  She was haunted.

After all, one must live one’s life.  Placing her on a lower pedestal in her self-esteem, the philosophy of youth revived her; and if the abatement of her personal pride was dispiriting, she began to see an advantage in getting inward eyes.

’It’s infinitely better I should know it, Emmy—­I’m a reptile!  Pleasure here, pleasure there, I’m always thinking of pleasure.  I shall give up thinking and take to drifting.  Neither of us can do more than open purses; and mine’s lean.  If the old Crossways had no tenant, it would be a purse all mouth.  And charity is haunted, like everything we do.  Only I say with my whole strength yes, I am sure, in spite of the men professing that they are practical, the rich will not move without a goad.  I have and hold—­you shall hunger and covet, until you are strong enough to force my hand:—­that ’s the speech of the wealthy.  And they are Christians.  In name.  Well, I thank heaven I’m at war, with myself.’

‘You always manage to strike out a sentence worth remembering, Tony,’ said Lady Dunstane.  ’At war with ourselves, means the best happiness we can have.’