“Yes,” said Harold, without much enthusiasm. “Yes, he was a close friend of mine. You see, I had my heart set upon going into Parliament—upon so humble an object may one’s aspirations be centred—and Edmund Airey was my adviser.”
“And what did he advise you to do?” she asked.
“He advised me to—well, to go into Parliament.” He could not bring himself to tell her what form exactly Edmund Airey’s advice had assumed.
“I am sure that his advice was good,” said she. “I think that I would go to him if I stood in need of advice.”
“Would you, indeed, Beatrice?” said he. He was at the point of telling her all that he had learned from Mrs. Mowbray; he only restrained himself by an effort.
“I believe that he is both clever and wise.”
“The two do not always go together, certainly.”
“They do not. But Mr. Airey is, I think, both.”
“He has been better than either. To be successful is better than to be either wise or clever. Mr. Airey has been successful. He will get an Under-Secretaryship if the Government survives the want of confidence of the Opposition.”
“And you will go into Parliament, Harold?”