"That's not it at all. Now listen. When you're at the House, you have tea on the Terrace sometimes, don't you?"
"Sometimes. Whisky-and-soda sometimes. What do you want?"
"You can ask people to come and have tea on the Terrace, can't you? Well, you've got to ask me. Next Tuesday, please. And you've got to persuade Aunt Jane to let me go, too."
"I'm not so sure about that," said George. "I've just been getting into a row about you. I'm not at all sure that I'm not a bad influence, and that any proposal of mine would not be vetoed."
"You can do it all right," said the girl decisively, "if you go the right way about it. Say that it's historical. I mean that your silly old House of Commons is historical. It would have a great educational value for me. You could show me where Chatham stood when he made his last grand speech, and fell down in the middle of it."
"That happened to be in another place, to wit, the House of Lords."
"It's all the same. And rub it in a bit about Burke—she's keen on Burke. Keep up a good strong educational line, and Aunt Jane will be glad to let me go."
"Very well. I'll do what I can. Next Tuesday at four o'clock. Tell me what time your train gets to Euston, and I'll meet it."
Ruth looked away from him, and appeared to be addressing one of the pillars of the veranda. "I don't think you need meet it. In fact, I'd rather you didn't. I know my way about London very well. You just wait at the House of Commons. And if I'm not there by a quarter past four, don't worry. It will only mean that I've changed my mind and gone somewhere else."
George whistled. "Well I never," he said. "And what might you be up to?"