“That abominable candidate of Tomkins’s would come in!” exclaimed Ethel. “Oh, Flora, that would be horrid!”
“That might be guarded against,” said Flora. “Perhaps Sir Henry—But oh! let us leave politics in peace while we can. I thought we should do some great good, but it is all a maze of confusion. It is so hard to know principles from parties, and everything goes wrong! It is of no use to contend with it!”
“It is never vain to contend with evil,” said Ethel.
“We are not generalising,” said Flora. “There is evil nearer home than the state of parties, and I can’t see that George’s being in Parliament—being what he is—is anything like the benefit to things in general—that it is temptation and plague to me, besides the risk of London life for the baby, now and hereafter.”
“I can’t say that I think it is,” said Ethel. “How nice it would be to have you here! I am so glad you are willing to give it up.”
“It would have been better to have given it up untasted—like Norman,” sighed Flora. “I will talk to George.”
“But, Flora,” said Ethel, a little startled, “you ought not to do such a thing without advice.”
“There will be worry enough before it is done!” sighed Flora. “No fear of that!”
“Stop a minute,” said Ethel, as if poor Flora could have done anything but lie still on her sofa. “I think you ought to consider well before you set it going.”
“Have not I longed for it day and night? It is an escape from peril for ourselves and our child.”