Stephen, inspired to hero worship, asked himself again what the difference was, beyond simple personal rectitude, between Vetch and Benham?
Vetch, lacking, so far as the young man knew, every public virtue except the human touch which enkindles either the souls or the imaginations of men, could overturn Benham's argument with a dramatic gesture, an emotional phrase.

Why was it that Benham, possessing both the character of the patriot and the graces of the orator, should fall short in the one indefinable attribute which makes a man the natural leader of men?
"People admire him, but they won't follow him," Stephen thought in perplexity.

"Vetch has something that Benham lacks; and it is this something that makes people believe in him in spite of themselves." This idea was in his mind when he met Benham one day on the steps of his club, and stopped to congratulate him on the great speech he had made the evening before.
"By Jove, it makes me want to throw my hat into the ring!" he exclaimed, half in jest, half in earnest.
"I wish you would," replied the other gravely.

"We need young men.

It is youth that turns the world." Never, Stephen thought, had Benham, appeared more impressive, more perfectly finished and turned out; never had he appeared so near to his tailor and so far from his audience.