Public-houses were doing a brisk trade, not without
pugilism for the entertainment of such as lounged about the doors.
For these sights and sounds Mrs. Wade had no attention, but
frequently her ear was smitten with the name "Quarrier," spoken or
roared by partisan or adversary. Her way led her through the open
place where stood the Town Hall; here had gathered some hundreds of
people, waiting for the result of the poll. As she hurried along the
ragged edge of the crowd, a voice from somewhere close at hand
checked her.
"If you imagine that Quarrier will do more for the people than any
other politician, you will find yourselves mistaken. Party politics
are no good--no good at all. You working men ought to have the
sense to form a party of your own."
It was Northway, addressing a cluster of mill-hands, and evidently
posing as one of a superior class who deigned to give them
disinterested advice. She listened for a minute longer, but heard
nothing that could excite her alarm.
When she reached the house it was a quarter to ten. This part of the
town lay in obscurity and quietness; not a shout sounded in her
hearing.
Mr. Quarrier had not been at home since early in the afternoon.
"He must be found at once," said Mrs. Wade, adding quickly, "I
suppose Mrs. Quarrier hasn't come?"
The servant gave a surprised negative.
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