“Well,” continued Victoria, looking at him bravely, “as nearly as I can remember their argument it is this:  that the Northeastern Railroads control the politics of the State for their own benefit.  That you appoint the governors and those that go to the Legislature, and that—­Hilary Vane gets them elected.  They say that he manages a political machine—­that’s the right word, isn’t it?—­for you.  And that no laws can be passed of which you do not approve.  And they say that the politicians whom Hilary Vane commands, and the men whom they put into office are all beholden to the railroad, and are of a sort which good citizens cannot support.  They say that the railroad has destroyed the people’s government.”

Mr. Flint, for the moment forgetting or ignoring the charges, glanced at her in astonishment.  The arraignment betrayed an amount of thought on the subject which he had not suspected.

“Upon my word, Victoria,” he said, “you ought to take the stump for Humphrey Crewe.”

She reached out with a womanly gesture, and laid her hand upon his.

“I am only telling you—­what I hear,” she said.

“Won’t you explain to me the way you look at it?  These people don’t all seem to be dishonest men or charlatans.  Some of them, I know, are honest.”  And her colour rose again.

“Then they are dupes and fools,” Mr. Flint declared vehemently.  “I don’t know how to explain it to you the subject is too vast, too far-reaching.  One must have had some business experience to grasp it.  I don’t mean to say you’re not intelligent, but I’m at a loss where to begin with you.  Looked at from their limited point of view, it would seem as if they had a case.  I don’t mean your friend, Humphrey Crewe—­it’s anything to get office with him.  Why, he came up here and begged me—­”

“I wasn’t thinking of Humphrey Crewe,” said Victoria.  Mr. Flint gave an ejaculation of distaste.

“He’s no more of a reformer than I am.  And now we’ve got that wild son of Hilary Vane’s—­the son of one of my oldest friends and associates —­making trouble.  He’s bitten with this thing, too, and he’s got some brains in his head.  Why,” exclaimed Mr. Flint, stopping abruptly and facing his daughter, “you know him!  He’s the one who drove you home that evening from Crewe’s party.”

“I remember,” Victoria faltered, drawing her hand away.

“I wasn’t very civil to him that night, but I’ve always been on the lookout for him.  I sent him a pass once, and he came up here and gave me as insolent a talking to as I ever had in my life.”

How well Victoria recalled that first visit, and how she had wondered about the cause of it!  So her father and Austen Vane had quarrelled from the first.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to be insolent,” she said, in a low voice.  “He isn’t at all that sort.”

“I don’t know what sort he is, except that he isn’t my sort,” Mr. Flint retorted, intent upon the subject which had kindled his anger earlier in the day.  “I don’t pretend to understand him.  He could probably have been counsel for the road if he had behaved decently.  Instead, he starts in with suits against us.  He’s hit upon something now.”