“What would be the use of their striking again! Merely ruin the industry, what’s left of it: and surely the owls are beginning to see it!”

“Perhaps they don’t mind ruining the industry,” said Connie.

“Ah, don’t talk like a woman! The industry fills their bellies, even if it can’t keep their pockets quite so flush,” he said, using turns of speech that oddly had a twang of Mrs. Bolton.

“But didn’t you say the other day that you were a conservative-anarchist,” she asked innocently.

“And did you understand what I meant?” he retorted. “All I meant is, people can be what they like and feel what they like and do what they like, strictly privately, so long as they keep the form of life intact, and the apparatus.”