breath of the raw air. It was ridiculously simple. If I thwarted her,
well, she would respect me. But her business in life was the inheritance
of the earth, and, however much she might respect me--or by so much the
more--she would recognise that I was a force to deflect her from the
right line--"a disease for me," she had said.

"What I have to do," I said, "is to show her that ... that I had her in
my hands and that I co-operated loyally."

The thing was so simple that I triumphed; triumphed with the full glow
of wine, triumphed looking down into that murky court-yard where the
lanthorns danced about in the rays of a great arc lamp. The gilt letters
scattered all over the windows blazed forth the names of Fox's
innumerable ventures. Well, he ... he had been a power, but I triumphed.
I had co-operated loyally with the powers of the future, though I
wanted no share in the inheritance of the earth. Only, I was going to
push into the future. One of the great carts got into motion amidst a
shower of sounds that whirled upward round and round the well. The black
hood swayed like the shoulders of an elephant as it passed beneath my
feet under the arch. It disappeared--it was co-operating too; in a few
hours people at the other end of the country--of the world--would be
raising their hands. Oh, yes, it was co-operating loyally.

I closed the window. Soane was holding a champagne bottle in one hand.
In the other he had a paper knife of Fox's--a metal thing, a Japanese
dagger or a Deccan knife. He sliced the neck off the bottle.

"Thought you were going to throw yourself out," he said; "I wouldn't
stop you. _I'm_ sick of it ... sick."