“It wants it badly. McMeekin told me two days ago he had forty cases and there are evidently a lot more now.”
“I’m not talking about microbes,” said Lalage. “What I’m talking about is the moral ‘at’.”
I thought for a moment.
—“titude?” I ventured to suggest.
“No,” said Lalage, “—mosphere. It wants it far worse than the other air. I had no idea till I took on this job that politics are such utter sinks as they are. What you tell me now about Vittie is just another example of what I mean. I dare say now it will turn out that he went to bed in the hope of escaping my exposure of the way he’s been telling lies.”
“Titherington hinted,” I said, “that he did it in the hope of influencing McMeekin’s vote. Fees, you know.”
“That’s worse.”
“A great deal worse.”
“Funk,” said Lalage, “which is what I did suspect him of, is comparatively honest, but a stratagem of the kind you suggest, is as bad as felony. I shall certainly have at him for that.”
“Titherington will be tremendously pleased if you do.”