"Brott, are you in your right senses?" he asked incredulously. "Do
you know what you are saying?"
Brott laughed a little nervously.
"This is a great issue, Grahame," he said. "I will confess that I
am in an undecided state. I am not sure that the country is in a
sufficiently advanced state for our propaganda. Is this really our
opportunity, or is it only the shadow of what is to come thrown
before? If we show our hand too soon all is lost for this
generation. Don't look at me as though I were insane, Grahame.
Remember that the country is only just free from a long era of
Conservative rule."
"The better our opportunity," Grahame answered vigorously. "Two
decades of puppet government are enervating, I admit, but they
only pave the way more surely to the inevitable reaction. What is
the matter with you, Brott? Are you ill? This is the great moment
of our lives. You must speak at Manchester and Birmingham within
this week. Glasgow is already preparing for you. Everything and
everybody waits for your judgment. Good God, man, it's magnificent!
Where's your enthusiasm? Within a month you must be Prime Minister,
and we will show the world the way to a new era."
Brott sat quite still. His friend's words had stirred him for the
moment. Yet he seemed the victim of a curious indecision.
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