'Well,' said Farnborough, distinctly dashed, 'they've been saying we have nothing to offer but personal popularity. No practical reform, no——'
'No truckling to the masses, I suppose.'
Poor Farnborough bit his lip. 'Well, in these democratic days, you're obliged (I should think), to consider——' In his baulked and snubbed condition he turned to Miss Dunbarton for countenance. 'I hope you'll forgive my bursting in like this, but'—he gathered courage as he caught a glimpse of her averted face—'I can see you realize the gravity of the situation.' He found her in the embrasure of the window, and went on with an air of speaking for her ear alone. 'My excuse for being so officious—you see it isn't as if he were going to be a mere private member. Everybody knows he'll be in the Cabinet.'
'It may be a Liberal Cabinet,' came from Stonor at his dryest.
Farnborough leapt back into the fray. 'Nobody thought so up to last night. Why, even your brother——' he brought up short. 'But I'm afraid I'm really seeming rather too——' He took up his hat.
'What about my brother?'
'Oh, only that I went from your house to the club, you know—and I met Lord Windlesham as I rushed up the Carlton steps.'
'Well?'
'I told him the Dutfield news.'