He had an open, ruddy face, spoilt by an expression of chronic perplexity, which was almost fretfulness.

Not that the countenance was without shrewdness; but it suggested that the man had ambitions far beyond his powers of performance, and already knew himself to be inadequate.
"Well, I shouldn't wonder if you get a considerable vote," he resumed, after a pause; "it's like women's suffrage.

People will go on voting for this kind of thing, till there seems a chance of getting it.

_Then_!" "Ah, well!" said Wharton, easily, "I see we shan't get _you_." "_I_!--vote for an eight-hours day, by local and trade option! In my opinion I might as well vote for striking the flag on the British Empire at once! It would be the death-knell of all our prosperity." Wharton's artistic ear disliked the mixture of metaphor, and he frowned slightly.
Mr.Bateson hurried on.

He was already excited, and had fallen upon Wharton as a prey.
"And you really desire to make it _penal_ for us manufacturers--for me in my industry--in spite of all the chances and changes of the market, to work my men more than eight hours a day--_even_ if they wish it!" "We must get our decision, our majority of the adult workers in any given district in favour of an eight-hours day," said Wharton, blandly; "then when they have voted for it, the local authority will put the Act in motion." "And my men--conceivably--may have voted in the minority, against any such tomfoolery; yet, when the vote is given, it will be a punishable offence for them, and me, to work overtime?
You _actually_ mean that; how do you propose to punish us ?" "Well," said Wharton, relighting his cigarette, "that is a much debated point.