"I don't see how it can be done," he concluded.

"That's just it. You can't see how it can be done, and so nothing's done.
Some men get drunk, and some men get religious, and others get
enthusiastic for a pound a hundred. You haven't got votes up in
Queensland, and if you had you'd probably give them to a lot of ignorant
politicians. Men don't know, and they don't seem to want to know much,
and they've got to be squeezed by men like him"--she nodded at
Strong--"before they take any interest in themselves or in those who belong
to them. For those who have an ounce of heart, though, I should think
there'd been squeezing enough already."

She looked at Ned angrily. The scenes of the morning rose before him and
tied his tongue.

"How do you know all these jokers, Nellie?" he asked. He had been going
to put the question a dozen times before but it had slipped him in the
interest of conversation.

"I only know them by sight. Mrs. Stratton takes me to the theatre with
her sometimes and tells me who people are and all about them."

"Who's Mrs. Stratton? You were talking of Mr. Stratton, too, just now,
weren't you?"

"Yes. The Strattons are very nice people, They're interested in the
Labour movement, and I said I'd bring you round when I go to-night. I
generally go on Saturday nights. They're not early birds, and we don't
want to get there till half-past ten or so."