"I must have done. Bill, I feel horribly entangled."
"Never mind," said Bill consolingly. "George doesn't really believe in women standing for Parliament, so you won't have to stand up on platforms and talk a lot of junk, or kiss dirty babies in Bermondsey. Come and have a cocktail. It's nearly lunch time."
Bundle got up and walked by his side obediently.
"And I do so hate politics," she murmured piteously.
"Of course you do. So do all sensible people. It's only people like Codders and Pongo who take them seriously and revel in them. But all the same," said Bill, reverting suddenly to a former point, "you oughtn't to let Codders hold your hand."
"Why on earth not?" said Bundle. "He's known me all my life."
"Well, I don't like it."
"Virtuous William—Oh, I say, look at Superintendent Battle."
They were just passing in through a side door. A cupboard-like room opened out of the little hallway. In it were kept golf clubs, tennis racquets, bowls and other features of country house life. Superintendent Battle was conducting a minute examination of various golf clubs. He looked up a little sheepishly at Bundle's exclamation.
"Going to take up golf, Superintendent Battle?"