"When you faced death in Chicago," Julia went on, her voice quivering
with the effort she was making to keep it low, "when you offered your
body to the law and preached fire and murder with your lips, you did it
for the sake of the people. There was nothing in life so glorious to
you, then, as the one great cause. That was the man we hoped to see.
Are you that man?"

Maraton's thoughts came back. He moved a little towards her. Her hand
shot out as though to keep him at a distance.

"Are you that man?" she repeated.

Her thin form was shaken with stifled sobs.

"I hope so," he answered gravely. "My ways are not the ways to which
you have been accustomed. In my heart I believe that I see further into
the real truth than some of those very ignorant friends of yours who
have been sent into Parliament by the operatives they represent; further
even than you, Julia, handicapped by your sex, with your eyes fixed, day
by day, only upon the misery of life. You blame me because I am here
amongst these people as an equal. Listen. Is one responsible for their
birth and instincts? I tell you now what I have told to no one, for no
one has ever ventured to ask me twice of my parentage. I was born, in a
sense, as these people were born. I cannot help it if, finding it
advisable to come amongst them, I find their ways easy. That is all. I
came here to keep a promise to a man who is, in his way, a great
statesman. He is Prime Minister of our country. He has, without a
doubt, so far as it is possible for such a man to have it there at all,
the cause of the people at his heart. Is it for me to ignore him, to
leave what he would say to me unsaid, to pull down the pillars which