"Mrs. Dallow, do you mean?" Nick asked.
"I was thinking of your mother. But I don't exclude the charming lady. I remember her as a little girl. I must have seen her at Windrush. Now I understand the fine spirit with which she threw herself into your canvass."
"It was her they elected," said Nick.
"I don't know," his host went on, "that I've ever been an enthusiast for political women, but there's no doubt that in approaching the mass of electors a graceful, affable manner, the manner of the real English lady, is a force not to be despised."
"Julia's a real English lady and at the same time a very political woman," Nick remarked.
"Isn't it rather in the family? I remember once going to see her mother in town and finding the leaders of both parties sitting with her."
"My principal friend, of the others, is her brother Peter. I don't think he troubles himself much about that sort of thing," said Nick.
"What does he trouble himself about?" Mr. Carteret asked with a certain gravity.
"He's in the diplomatic service; he's a secretary in Paris."
"That may be serious," said the old man.