“It is scarcely cold enough for a fire to-day,” she said, “but my husband is laid up with a little attack of lumbago.”
“I am so sorry to hear that,” said Mrs. Altham feverishly. “When did he catch it?”
“He felt it first last night before dinner. It is disappointing, for he expected Harrogate to cure him of such tendencies. But it is not very severe: I have no doubt he will be in here presently for tea.”
Mrs. Altham felt quite convinced he would not, and hastened to glean further enlightenment.
“You must be very busy thinking of the election,” she said. “I suppose Sir James is safe to get in. I got tickets for the first of his meetings this morning.”
“That will be the one at which the President of the Board of Trade speaks,” said Mrs. Ames. “My cousin and he dine with us first.”
Mrs. Altham determined on more direct questions.
“Really, it must require courage to be a politician nowadays,” she said, “especially if you are in the Cabinet. Mr. Chilcot has been hardly able to open his mouth lately without being interrupted by some Suffragette. Dear me, I hope I have not said the wrong thing! I quite forgot your sympathies.”
“It is certainly a subject that interests me,” said Mrs. Ames, “though as for saying the wrong thing, dear Mrs. Altham, why, the world would be a very dull place if we all agreed with each other. But I think it requires just as much courage for a woman to get up at a meeting and interrupt. I cannot imagine myself being bold enough. I feel I should be unable to get on my feet, or utter a word. They must be very much in earnest, and have a great deal of conviction to nerve them.”
This was not very satisfactory; if anything was to be learned from it, it was that Mrs. Ames was but a tepid supporter of the cause. But what followed was still more vexing, for the parlour-maid announced Mrs. Evans.