"No memory at all is better," Molyneux answered.
"And your telegram?" Lady Caroom asked.
"Is from my indefatigable uncle," Molyneux groaned. "He insists upon it that I interest myself in the election here, which means that I must go in to-morrow and call upon Rochester."
The younger girl looked up from her chair, and laughed softly.
"You will have to speak for him," she said. "How interesting! We will all come in and hear you."
Molyneux missed an easy cannon, and laid down his cue with an aggrieved air.
"It is all very well for you," he remarked, dismally, "but it is a horrible grind for me. I have just succeeded in forgetting all that we did last session, and our programme for next. Now I've got to wade through it all. I wonder why on earth Providence selected for me an uncle who thinks it worth while to be a Cabinet Minister?"
Sybil Caroom shrugged her shoulders.
"I wonder why on earth," she remarked, "any constituency thinks it worth while to be represented by such a politician as you. How did you get in, Sydney?"
"Don't know," he answered. "I was on the right side, and I talked the usual rot."