"Yes," said the little doctor, who had lived for some years among the
colliers, and become quite familiar with them. "Yes, they have to earn
their living--and then no more. That's why the British Government is
the worst thing possible for them. It is the worst thing possible.
And not because it is a bad government. Really, it is not a bad
government. It is a good one--and they know it--much better than
they would make for themselves, probably. But for that reason it is
so very bad."

The little oriental laughed a queer, sniggering laugh. His eyes were
very bright, dilated, completely black. He was looking into the ice-
blue, pointed eyes of Aaron Sisson. They were both intoxicated--but
grimly so. They looked at each other in elemental difference.

The whole room was now attending to this new conversation: which they
all accepted as serious. For Aaron was considered a special man, a
man of peculiar understanding, even though as a rule he said little.

"If it is a good government, doctor, how can it be so bad for the
people?" said the landlady.

The doctor's eyes quivered for the fraction of a second, as he watched
the other man. He did not look at the landlady.

"It would not matter what kind of mess they made--and they would make
a mess, if they governed themselves, the people of India. They would
probably make the greatest muddle possible--and start killing one
another. But it wouldn't matter if they exterminated half the
population, so long as they did it themselves, and were responsible
for it."