and locked the door against Barode and he had made little effort to open
it. So they had parted, and had never clasped hands or kissed again. To
him she was a sin of which he never repented. He had watched the growth
and development of Carnac with a sharp sympathy. He was not a good man;
but in him were seeds of goodness. To her he was the lash searing her
flesh, day in day out, year in year out, which kept her sacred to her
home. For her children's sake she did not tell her husband, and she had
emptied out her heart over Carnac with overwhelming fondness.

"Yes, I'll go, Carnac," she said at last, for it seemed the easier way.
"I haven't been to a political meeting for many years."

"That's right. I like your being with me."

The meeting was held in what had been a skating-rink and drill-hall. On
the platform in the centre was the chairman, with Barode Barouche on his
right. There was some preliminary speech-making from the chairman. A
resolution was moved supporting Barouche, his party and policy, and there
were little explosions of merriment at strokes of unconscious humour made
by the speakers; and especially by one old farmer who made his jokes on
the spot, and who now tried to embalm Barouche with praise. He drew
attention to Barouche's leonine head and beard, to his alert eyes and
quizzical face, and said he was as strong in the field of legislation as
he was in body and mind. Carnac noticed that Barouche listened good-
naturedly, and now and then cocked his head and looked up at the ceiling
as though to find something there.

There was a curious familiarity in the action of the head which struck
Carnac. He and his mother were seated about five rows back from the
front row on the edge of the aisle. As the meeting progressed,