"Not exactly, sir."
"No indeed. You know the old saying, 'God disposes it all.' I have to make the best of it,—and so no doubt do you."
"There's no doubt about it, sir," said Arthur, speaking in a low but almost angry voice. They were not in a room by themselves, but in a recess which separated them from the room. "I don't know that I want to talk about it, but to me it is one of those things for which there is no remedy. When a man loses his leg, he hobbles on, and sometimes has a good time of it at last;—but there he is, without a leg."
"It wasn't my fault, Arthur."
"There has been no fault but my own. I went in for the running and got distanced. That's simply all about it, and there's no more to be said."
"You ain't surprised that I should wish to see you."
"I'm ever so much obliged. I think it's very kind of you."
"I can't go in for a new life as you can. I can't take up politics and Parliament. It's too late for me."
"I'm going to. There's a Bill coming on this very night that I'm interested about. You mustn't be angry if I rush off a little before ten. We are going to lend money to the parishes on the security of the rates for draining bits of common land. Then we shall sell the land and endow the unions, so as to lessen the poor rates, and increase the cereal products of the country. We think we can bring 300,000 acres under the plough in three years, which now produce almost nothing, and in five years would pay all the expenses. Putting the value of the land at £25 an acre, which is low, we shall have created property to the value of seven millions and a half. That's something, you know."
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Wharton, who felt himself quite unable to follow with any interest the aspirations of the young legislator.