head to foot like a man coming out of sleep with a yawn.
He said in a totally new voice, louder but much more careless,
"Ah yes, sir,... this 'ere Budget ... the Radicals are doing
a lot of 'arm."

I listened intently, and he went on. He said with a sort of careful
precision, "Settin' class against class; that's what I call it.
Why, what's made our Empire except the readiness of all classes
to work 'eartily 'and-in-'and."

He walked a little up and down the lane and stamped with the cold.
Then he said, "What I say is, what else kept us from the 'errors
of the French Revolution?"

My memory is good, and I waited in tense eagerness for the phrase
that came next. "They may laugh at Dukes; I'd like to see them 'alf
as kind and Christian and patient as lots of the landlords are.
Let me tell you, sir," he said, facing round at me with the final air
of one launching a paradox. "The English people 'ave some common sense,
and they'd rather be in the 'ands of gentlemen than in the claws
of a lot of Socialist thieves."

I had an indescribable sense that I ought to applaud, as if I
were a public meeting. The insane separation in the man's soul
between his experience and his ready-made theory was but a type
of what covers a quarter of England. As he turned away,
I saw the Daily Wire sticking out of his shabby pocket.
He bade me farewell in quite a blaze of catchwords, and went
stumping up the road. I saw his figure grow smaller and smaller
in the great green landscape; even as the Free Man has grown smaller