"It is a primitive law," Maraton answered. "Put yourself down amongst
the people, with a wife by your side and children crying to you for
bread. Would you call yourself a man if you let them starve, if you
sent your children sobbing away from you when there was bread to be had
for the fighting, bread to be taken from those who had also meat? I
think not. I am not afraid of plunging the country into disaster. It
is my belief that the sufferings and the loss which would ensue would
not fall upon the class who are already dwelling in misery."

Mr. Foley moved nervously to the mantelpiece and helped himself to a
cigarette.

"Mr. Maraton," he said, "we will not argue on these lines. I like to
feel my feet upon the earth. I like to deal with the things one knows
about. Grant me this, at least; that it is possible to reach the end at
which you are striving, by milder means?"

"It may be," Maraton admitted. "I am not sure. Milder means have been
tried for a good many generations. I tell you frankly that I do not
believe it is possible by legislation to redistribute the wealth of the
world."

Lord Armley, from his seat amongst the shadows, smiled sarcastically.

"You, too, Mr. Maraton," he murmured. "What is your answer, I wonder,
to the oft quoted question? You may redistribute wealth, but how do you
propose to keep it in a state of equilibrium?"

Maraton smiled.