“I don’t know whether you did or not,” I said. “But that’s not the conspiracy I’m alluding to. Look here.”
I pulled out of my pocket the three papers which I had meant for Lady Kingscourt and showed Gorman the articles about the fashionable ladies seducing soldiers.
“You can’t expect our side,” I said, “to sit down under this kind of thing without a struggle. We shall make counter accusations. I shall do it myself if nobody else does. I’m warning you beforehand, Gorman, so that you won’t be surprised when you find your character in rags.”
Gorman looked at his watch.
“I know you like talking that sort of nonsense,” he said, “and I don’t mind listening, not a bit; but just let me ask you this before you start. Will you come down with me this evening and see Tim’s invention? If you will I’ll order a motor from Harrod’s or somewhere, and we’ll run down after dinner. There’s no use going in broad daylight, for we can’t see the thing properly till after dark.”
“I shall be delighted,” I said.
“Very well. Excuse me a moment while I go and get on the ‘phone to engage the motor.”
I waited, feeling a little sore. I daresay I do talk nonsense and like talking it, but no politician who ever lived has a right to tell me so. I intended to greet Gorman when he returned with the proverb about living in glass houses and throwing stones. He came back, smiling radiantly. My ill-humour passed away at once.
“Now,” he said, “go on with what you were telling me.
“I pointed out to you,” I said, “that duchesses, marchionesses, countesses, and other abandoned women of that kind have been flirting with military officers in such a way as to interfere with the governing of this country in accordance with the principles of democracy.”