"Isn't that the condition of most of us ?" "No, not at all!" she exclaimed, both her vanity and her enthusiasm roused by his manner.

"Both my judgment and my conscience make me a Socialist.

It's only one's wretched love for one's own little luxuries and precedences--the worst part of one--that makes me waver, makes me a traitor! The people I worked with in London would think me a traitor often, I know." "And you really think that the world ought to be 'hatched over again and hatched different'?
That it ought to be, if it could be ?" "I think that things are intolerable as they are," she broke out, after a pause.

"The London poor were bad enough; the country poor seem to me worse! How can any one believe that such serfdom and poverty--such mutilation of mind and body--were meant to go on for ever!" Lord Maxwell's brows lifted.

But it certainly was no wonder that Aldous should find those eyes of hers superb?
"Can you really imagine, my dear young lady," he asked her mildly, "that if all property were divided to-morrow the force of natural inequality would not have undone all the work the day after, and given us back our poor ?" The "newspaper cant" of this remark, as the Cravens would have put it, brought a contemptuous look for an instant into the girl's face.