there were a few choice bronzes here and there, a statue of wonderful
beauty upon the writing table, and a figure of Justice leaning with
outstretched arms over the world, presented to Dartrey by a great French
artist. For the rest, there were comfortable chairs, an ample fire, and
a round table on which were set out coffee and liqueurs of many sorts.

"You will find that I am not altogether an anchorite," Dartrey observed,
as they settled into their places.

"I am a lover of old brandy. The '68 I recommend especially, Tallente,
and bring your chair round to the fire. There are cigars and cigarettes
at your elbow. Miller, I think I know your taste. Help yourself, won't
you?"

Miller drank crème de menthe and smoked homemade Virginia cigarettes.
Tallente watched him and sighed. Then, suddenly conscious of his host's
critical scrutiny, he felt an impulse of shame, felt that his contempt
for the man had in it something almost snobbish. He leaned forward and
did his best. Miller had been a school-board teacher, an exhibitioner
at college, and was possessed of a singular though limited intelligence.
He could deal adequately with any one problem presented by itself and
affected only by local conditions, yet the more Tallente talked with
him, the more he realised his lack of breadth, his curious weakness of
judgment when called upon to consider questions dependent upon varying
considerations. As to the right or wrong wording of a clause in the
Factory Amendment Act, he could be lucid, explanatory and convincing; as
to the justice of the same clause when compared with other forms of
legislation, he was vague and unconvincing, didactic and prejudiced. If
Dartrey's object had been to bring these two men into closer
understanding of each other, he was certainly succeeding. It is