pamphlets, and newspapers. Mrs. Waltham had discreetly abandoned the
sitting-room.

'I don't want to frighten you,' he said, laying down his bundle.
'You haven't got to read through all these. I was up nearly all last
night marking pages that I thought you'd better study first of all.
And here's a lot of back numbers of the "Fiery Cross;" I should like
you to read all that's signed by Mr. Westlake; he's the editor, you
know.'

'Is there anything here of your own writing?' Adela inquired.

'No, I haven't written anything. I've kept to lecturing; it comes
easier to me. After Christmas I shall have several lectures to give
in London. Perhaps you'll come and hear me?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Then you can get to know Mrs. Westlake, I dare say. She's a lady,
you know, like yourself. There's some poetry by her in the paper; it
just has her initials, "S. W." She's with us heart and soul, as
you'll see by her writing.'

'Is Alice a Socialist?' Adela asked, after glancing fitfully at the
papers.

Richard laughed.

'Oh, she's a princess; it would be too much to expect Socialism of
her. But I dare say she'll be beginning to think more now. I don't