And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. Baffled in their attempt, the mob uttered a roar, such as only a thousand angry voices can utter, and discharged a volley of missiles at the soldiery. Answering him was agonizing. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. “Sooner or later, John, it will come to that. They fight over money all of the time.
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