What sort of
Democracy is that? Even a Labour Government--supposing that in spite of
the Press it did win through--what would be its fate? Separated from its
base, imprisoned within those tradition-haunted walls, it would lose
touch with the people, would become in its turn a mere oligarchy. If the
people are ever to govern they must keep their hand firmly upon the
machine; not remain content with pulling a lever and then being shown the
door."
She had sent a note by messenger to Mary Stopperton to say she was
coming. Mary had looked very fragile the last time she had seen her,
just before leaving for France; and she had felt a fear. Mary had
answered in her neat, thin, quavering writing, asking her to come early
in the morning. Sometimes she was a little tired and had to lie down
again. She had been waiting for Joan. She had a present for her.
The morning promised to be fair, and she decided to walk by way of the
Embankment. The great river with its deep, strong patience had always
been a friend to her. It was Sunday and the city was still sleeping.
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