KINGSTON BROOKS MAKES INQUIRIES
At luncheon Brooks found himself between Sybil Caroom and Mr. Hennibul.
She began to talk to him at once.
"I want to know all about your candidate, Mr. Brooks," she declared.
"You can't imagine how pleased I am to have you here. I have had the
feeling ever since I came of being shut up in a hostile camp. I am a
Radical, you know, and these good people, even my mother, are rabid
Conservatives."
Brooks smiled as he unfolded his serviette.
"Well, Henslow isn't exactly an ornamental candidate," he said, "but he is particularly sound and a man with any amount of common-sense. You should come and hear him speak."
"I'd love to," she answered, "but no one would bring me from here. They are all hopeless. Mr. Molyneux there is going to support Mr. Rochester. If I wasn't sure that he'd do more harm than good, I wouldn't let him go. But I don't suppose they'll let you speak, Sydney," she added. "They won't if they've ever heard you."
Molyneux smiled an imperturbable smile.
"Personally," he said, "I should prefer to lend my moral support only, but my fame as an orator is too well known. There is not the least chance that they will let me off."
Sybil looked at Brooks.
"Did you ever hear such conceit?" she remarked, in a pitying tone. "And
I don't believe he's ever opened his mouth in the House, except to shout
'Hear, hear'! Besides, he's as nervous as a kitten. Tell me, are you
going to return Mr. Henslow?"