gettin' on, like? Pleased with it down here all by yourselves?"
"Very."
"A bit lonely for you. I suppose you wouldn't like to know the manager here—Mr Thomas? He's a decent chap—from South Wales originally."
"No. I like it best when I don't know anybody."
"That's a compliment for some of us. However—I know what you mean. I know what you mean. Jack tells me you saw Kangaroo. Made quite a fuss of you, I hear. I knew he would. Oh, Kangaroo knew all about you: all he wanted to know, anyhow. I say, if ye think of stoppin' down here, you might get in a ton of coal. It looks as if this strike might come off. That Arbitration Board's a fine failure, what?"
"As far as I gather."
"Oh, bound to be. Bound to be. They talk about scraps of paper, why, every agreement that's ever come to in this country, you could wrap your next red herring in it, for all it's worth."
"I suppose it's like Ireland, they don't want to agree."
"That's about it. The Labour people want this revolution of theirs. What?"—and he looked at Somers with a long, smiling, sardonic leer, like a wink. "There's a certain fact," he continued, "as far as any electioneering success goes, they're out of the running for a spell. What do you think of Trades Unions, one way and another?"
"I dislike them on the whole rather intensely. They're just the nastiest profiteering side of the working man—they make a fool of him too, in my opinion."
"Just my opinion. They make a fool of him. Wouldn't it be nice to have them for bosses of the whole country? They very nearly are. But I doubt very much if they'll ever cover the last lap—what?"
"Not if Kangaroo can help it," said Somers.
"No!" William James flashed a quick look at him from his queer grey eyes. "What did you make of him then? Could you make him out?"
"Not quite. I never met anyone like him. The wonder to me is, he seems to have as much spare time for entertaining and amusing his guests, as if he had no work at all on hand."
