Sir Richmond and Miss Grammont had walked round the old circumvallation
together, but Belinda Seyffert had strayed away from them, professing
an interest in flowers. It was not so much that she felt they had to be
left together that made her do this as her own consciousness of being
possessed by a devil who interrupted conversations.
When Miss Grammont was keenly interested in a conversation, then Belinda
had learnt from experience that it was wiser to go off with her devil
out of the range of any temptation to interrupt.
"You really think," said Miss Grammont, "that it would be possible to
take this confused old world and reshape it, set it marching towards
that new world of yours--of two hundred and fifty million fully
developed, beautiful and happy people?"
"Why not? Nobody is doing anything with the world except muddle about.
Why not give it a direction?"
"You'd take it in your hands like clay?"
"Obdurate clay with a sort of recalcitrant, unintelligent life of its
own."
Her imagination glowed in her eyes and warmed her voice. "I believe what
you say is possible. If people dare."
"I am tired of following little motives that are like flames that go out
when you get to them. I am tired of seeing all the world doing the
same.
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