“Renegade Whig is an actionable phrase,” Mr. Culbrett observed.
He was unnoticed.
“If you don’t like ‘renegade,’ take ‘dead,’” said Beauchamp. “Dead Whig resurgent in the Tory. You are dead.”
“It’s the stupid conceit of your party thinks that.”
“Dead, my dear Mr. Lespel. I’ll say for the Whigs, they would not be seen touting for Tories if they were not ghosts of Whigs. You are dead. There is no doubt of it.”
“But,” Grancey Lespel repeated, “if there’s no doubt about it, how is it I have a doubt about it?”
“The Whigs preached finality in Reform. It was their own funeral sermon.”
“Nonsensical talk!”
“I don’t dispute your liberty of action to go over to the Tories, but you have no right to attempt to take an honest Liberal with you. And that I’ve stopped.”
“Aha! Beauchamp; the man’s mine. Come, you’ll own he swore he wouldn’t vote for a Shrapnelite.”