'Yes, he knows his House,' Egremont replied. 'You observe the
construction of his speech. After well-sounding periods on the
elevation of the working classes, he casually throws out the hint
that employers of labour will do wisely to increase the intelligence
of their hands in view of foreign competition. Of course that is the
root of the matter; but Dalmaine knows better than to begin with
crude truths.'

In the meanwhile the boat was drawn up and the chain locked. The
girls walked on in advance; Egremont continued to speak of Mr.
Dalmaine, a rising politician, whose acquaintance he had made on the
voyage home from New York.

'One of the few sincere things I ever heard from his lips was a
remark he made on trade-unions. "Let them combine by all means," he
said; "it's a fair fight." There you have the man; it seems to him
mere common sense to regard his factory hands as his enemies. A fair
fight! What a politico-economical idea of fairness!'

He spoke with scorn, his eyes flashing and his nostrils trembling.
Mr. Newthorpe kept a quiet smile--sympathetic, yet critical.

Annabel sought her father for a word apart before lunch.

'How long will Mr. Egremont stay?' she asked, apparently speaking in
her quality of house-mistress.

'A day or two,' was the reply. 'We'll drive over to Pooley Bridge
for his bag this afternoon; he left it at the hotel.'