"Does it?" cried Cynthia, smiles breaking through the tragic gloom of her countenance. But the smiles vanished. She shook her head wistfully. "You are merely saying this because you see that I am troubled."
"But it's none the less true. This House has a corporate life which is rather difficult for those who are not members of it to understand."
Robert Brook certainly seemed very well contented. Cynthia, however, was not satisfied.
"But will he carry his people with him into the division lobby--now?" she asked. "Won't they a little have lost faith?"
"Not a bit. You see Howard Fall has quite saved the situation," Brook replied cheerily, and Cynthia suddenly stepped on ahead. The name of Howard Fall was beginning to exasperate her. She stopped, however, as they came into the round hall of the lobby.
"On the whole," she said, with the loftiest impartiality, "I liked my husband's speech a good deal better than I did Mr. Howard Fall's. Perhaps on a second thought you will too, Mr. Brook."
She surveyed him steadily with a pair of cold blue eyes, and then her face suddenly dimpled to a smile of appeal.
"You really mean that I can't see him?"
"The man who starts a discussion must hear it out. That's a sound old rule, and if it's not so religiously kept as it used to be, the House of Commons is the worse."
"I can send him a little note at all events."