"I knew that very well," he said.
Cynthia disbelieved him. Also she had formed a dislike of him. There was something too acrid in his speeches. She thought of him as a man going about with a phial of vitriol hidden in the palm of his hand.
"I am not famous," she said coldly. "How should you know, Mr. Devenish?"
"I saw you in the lobby, and--I asked;" he smiled as he spoke, and she found his smile singularly disarming; it was so friendly and genuine a thing. Mr. Devenish turned again to Harry Rames.
"We want you to help us. A vote on account for the navy is coming up on Thursday. There will be a motion for the reduction of armaments. We want you to speak."
Harry Rames shook his head.
"I rather propose to leave those questions alone. I don't want to get the reputation of being a service member."
"I appreciate that," said Mr. Devenish. "But you are asked to speak in this debate by the government."
"On the general question?" asked Rames.
"Not so much on that. The point is the economy of the big ship. You can speak from practical experience. You know. You are here in Parliament to contribute your knowledge." Mr. Devenish turned to Cynthia, and again his smile illumined his face. "Persuade him, Mrs. Rames."