At breakfast Denzil received a note from Mrs. Wade, sent by hand. "Do let me know how Lilian is. The messenger will wait for a reply." He wrote an answer of warm friendliness, signing it, "Ever sincerely yours." Mrs. Wade had impressed him with her devotion; he thought of her with gratitude and limitless confidence.
"If it had been Molly, instead," he said to himself; "I can't be at all sure how she would have behaved. Religion and the proprieties might have been too much for her good nature; yes, they would have been. After all, these emancipated women are the most trustworthy, and Mrs. Wade is the best example I have yet known."
When Mrs. Liversedge welcomed her sister-in-law at luncheon, she was stricken with alarm.
"My dear girl, you look like a ghost! This won't do," she added, in a whisper, presently. "You must keep quiet!"
But the Liversedges' house was no place for quietness. Two or three vigorous partisans put in an appearance at the meal, and talked with noisy exhilaration. Tobias himself had yielded to the spirit of the hour; he told merry stories of incidents that had come under his notice that morning. One of these concerned a well-known publican, a stalwart figure on the Tory side.
"I am assured that three voters have been drinking steadily for the last week at his expense. He calculates that delirium tremens will have set in, in each case, by the day after to-morrow."
"Who are these men?" asked Lilian, eagerly. "Why can't we save them in time?"
"Oh, the thing is too artfully arranged. They are old topers; no possibility of interfering."
"I can't see"——
"Lilian," interposed Mrs. Liversedge, "what was the material of that wonderful dress Mrs. Kay wore last night?"