DEMOCRACY: A DIALOGUE
I
He sat with his friend's letter in his hand, now looking at it and realising its phrases, now losing sight of the firm, clear, 'wingèd words,' in his dreamy and tender memories of their ancient friendship.
They had not met for seven years. And in those seven years it seemed that for both of them their souls had renewed themselves as completely as their bodies. Now they stood utterly apart. Once—then—they had stood so close. He had had but two intimate personal relationships with men in all his life, and they had both exerted great influence on him. One of them had passed almost away; the other still affected him powerfully. One was that of his old schoolfellow, Jack Daniel; the other was that of Charlie Goulburn, a young Irish-American 'Labour leader.' He had loved them both and admired them both, though in very different ways. He was not aware
