to. They're bit by Syndicalism. They're setting out, I tell you, to be
unreasonable and impossible. It isn't an argument; it's a fight. They
don't want to make friends with the employer. They want to make an end
to the employer. Whatever we give them they'll take and press us for
more. Directly we make terms with the leaders the men go behind
it.... It's a raid on the whole system. They don't mean to work the
system--anyhow. I'm the capitalist, and the capitalist has to go. I'm to
be bundled out of my works, and some--some "--he seemed to be rejecting
unsuitable words--"confounded politician put in. Much good it would do
them. But before that happens I'm going to fight. You would."

The bishop walked to the window and stood staring at the brilliant
spring bulbs in the big employer's garden, and at a long vista of
newly-mown lawn under great shapely trees just budding into green.

"I can't admit," he said, "that these troubles lie outside the sphere of
the church."

The employer came and stood beside him. He felt he was being a little
hard on the bishop, but he could not see any way of making things
easier.

"One doesn't want Sacred Things," he tried, "in a scrap like this.

"We've got to mend things or end things," continued the big employer.
"Nothing goes on for ever. Things can't last as they are going on
now...."

Then he went on abruptly to something that for a time he had been
keeping back.