Her father's genial defence of the Governor; his ironic aristocratic sympathy with the radical point of view appeared superficial and unconvincing beside Benham's moral repudiation.

And yet what after all was the simple truth about Gideon Vetch?
What was the true colour of that variable personality, which appeared to shift and alter according to the temperament or the convictions of each observer?
She had never known two men who agreed about Vetch, except perhaps Benham and his disciple, Stephen Culpeper.

Each man saw Vetch differently, and was this because each man saw in the great demagogue only the particular virtue or vice for which he was looking, the reflection of personal preferences or aversions?
It seemed to her suddenly that the Governor, whom she had thought commonplace, towered an immense vague figure in a cloud of misinterpretation and misunderstanding.

His followers believed in him; his opponents distrusted him; but was this not true of every political leader since the beginning of politics?
The power to inspire equally devotion and hatred had been throughout history the authentic sign of the saviour and of the destroyer.

Her curiosity, which had waned, flared up more strongly than ever.
"I should like to know," she said aloud, "what he is truthfully ?" Benham laughed as he rose to go.