"I haven't missed my dinner," said Randolph quietly; "but this will be my last visit to you. I am off to-morrow."
"Are you, really? We—my father will miss you."
"Why did you correct yourself?" Randolph asked with a short laugh. "I should like to think you missed me. I haven't too many friends; perhaps it's as well. The fewer you have, the fewer you lose. They want me in town about a billet abroad."
"Why do you leave poor old England? I heard you were a good speaker. We have not many at present in Parliament."
Then Randolph spoke with passion underlying his tone:
"They are offering me a frontier post. I shall have things my own way there; but it's a disgrace to the Empire at present. I shall get a chance of a good sweep out, and a general clean up. If I can clean one corner for the country and keep it clean, it's better work than fighting for party, and swallowing one's convictions and conscience with one gulp."
"Yes," said Sidney slowly; "perhaps. And we want strong men for those isolated frontiers. You are going to accept it?"
"Most certainly. I am a single man and have no ties; there isn't a soul who will miss me. I have nothing and nobody to keep me at home."
Bitterness was in his tone.
"Oh, don't say that."