And that was how Robin and Dolly plighted their troth at last—openly, without shame, and for all to see.
Robin and I lingered at the turning of a passage, lit only by our two flickering bedroom candles.
"Well, we can't complain of having had an uneventful day," I said.
"I'm sorry we didn't scrape other twenty-eight votes," said Robin characteristically.
"Never mind!" I said. "I shall be none the worse of a holiday for a year or two. If you will kindly take Dolly off our hands as quickly as possible"—he caught his breath at that—"Kitty and I and Phillis will go a trip round the world together. Then I'll come home and fight a by-election, perhaps."
"Meanwhile," said Robin, "you will be having no further need of a private secretary."
"I'm afraid not," I said. The fact had been tugging at my conscience for the last two hours. "And that raises another question. What are you two going to live on?"
"Champion wants me," said Robin. "He has offered me the post of Secretary to that Royal Commission of which he has been appointed Chairman. It is a fine opening."
"I should think it was!" I said with whole-hearted joy. "Good luck to you, Robin!"
"Thank you!" said Robin. "Still," he added, as he turned to go, "I wish I could have found you twenty-eight more votes."