He asked: 'What were you saying to Puggerton when I passed and looked at you—you remember? Something about working men and intelligent voting.'
'Oh, I was telling that tale of yours about the candidate whose name was Beere, and who got in so easily for—'
'I thought so,' he remarked, before she had finished. 'And you went on to say that I thought it a pity that there were not more men on our side with names of similar sound?'
'Yes, I did. Mr. Puggerton laughed ever so much.'
'H'm. Paula, my dear, I think it won't be amiss if you leave off talking about politics.'
'Why? I'm sure I've been talking very cleverly all the evening. Mr. Liggs said I was an acquisition to—something, I forget what.'
'No doubt. For all that, I think you had better give your attention to other things. In fact—it's not a polite thing to say—but you're making a fool of yourself.'
Paula's features hardened. She looked very beautiful tonight, and had, in truth, been charming. Her appearance suffered when the delicate curves of her face fell into hard lines. It was noteworthy that the smile her husband now wore always caused this change in her expression.
'I'm glad you know that it isn't polite,' she answered, sourly. 'You often need to be told.'
'I hope not. But you try my patience a little now and then. Surely it's better that I should save you from making these ridiculous mistakes. Once or twice this week I've heard most absurd remarks of yours repeated. Please remember that it isn't only yourself you—stultify. Politics may be a joke for you; for me it is a serious pursuit. I mustn't have people associating my name with all kinds of nonsensical chatter. I have a career before me, Paula.'