But he has resigned and gone
into business with a cousin of his in Lancashire. He wrote me--oh, it must
be nearly two years ago--that if there should be a war he would enlist as a
matter of course, but as there was no prospect of any, and he was sick
of idleness--his good middle-class energetic blood asserting itself, he
said,--he was going to amuse himself with work, incidentally try to make
a fortune. His mother left a good deal of money, but there are several
children and I guess the present earl needs most of it to keep up his
estates, to say nothing of his position. Fotten law, that--entail, I mean."
Alexina came and sat down on the divan beside Gora, piling the cushions
behind her. "Are you a socialist?"
"I am not. I believe in sticking to your own class, whether you have a
grudge against it or not, or even if you think it far from perfection."
She shot a quick challenging glance at her admittedly aristocratic
sister-in-law, but Alexina had lifted the lower white of her eyes just
above their soft black fringe and looked more innocent than any new born
lamb. As she did not answer Gora continued:
"I remember that night I sat out with Gathbroke on Calvary he said
something about socialism...that it was a confession of failure. I may feel
so furious with destiny sometimes that I could go out and wave a red flag,
or even the darker red of anarchy, but what always sobers me is the thought
that if I had the good luck to inherit or make even a reasonable fortune
I'd have no more use for socialism than for a rattlesnake in my bed.
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