A few days later, Mr. Dick Derosne was walking in the Park at noon. He had been down to the Club and found no one there. Everybody except himself was at work: the politicians were scattered all over the colony, conducting their election campaign. Medland himself had gone to his constituency: his seat was very unsafe there, and he was determined to keep it if he could, although, as a precaution, he was also a candidate for the North-east ward of Kirton, where his success was beyond doubt. His friends and his foes had followed him out of town, and the few who were left were busy in the capital itself. Such men as these when at the Club would talk of nothing but the crisis, and, after he had heard all there was to hear about the Benyon affair, the crisis began to bore Dick. After all, it mattered very little to him; he would be out of it all in a month, and the Medlands were not, when he came
to think of it, people of great importance. Why, the Grangers had never heard of them! Decidedly, he had had enough and to spare of the Medlands.
Nevertheless, he was to have a little more of them, for at this instant he saw Daisy Medland approaching him. Escape was impossible, and Dick had the grace to shrink from appearing to avoid her.
"The deuce!" he thought, "this is awkward. I hope she won't—" He raised his hat with elaborate politeness.
Daisy stopped and greeted him with much effusion and without any embarrassment. Dick thought that odd.
"I was afraid," she said, "we were not going to see you again before you disappeared finally with the Governor."
"Oh, I came back just to settle things up. I hope you are all right, Miss Medland?"
"Yes, thank you. Did you have a pleasant trip?"
"Yes, very," he answered, wondering if she knew of his engagement.
"We missed you very much," she went on.