“But you—yourself—personally?”
The Colossus drew tentatively at his cigar. “Pray, who am I—a mere newspaper man—to hold an opinion—on such a matter? I can only tell you that Mr. Ransom thinks so and he, as you know, held office before the Deluge.”
“But you—yourself?” She was determined to nail him down. “Do you think John Endor may one day be Prime Minister?”
“Well, since you ask me”—each word was like a drip of ice-cold water—“in my humble opinion, I don’t.”
Something in the deliberate voice clutched her by the throat. As his eye caught hers and held it, she drew her breath quickly in.
“Since you ask me.” The tone was sweet apology, “Only my poor opinion. Really, I don’t pretend to know. Why should one?”
“You think,” said Helen, “that ... he ... might...?”
“My dear, I think nothing.” It was the father speaking again. “One can’t help feeling he’s a rather high explosive, that’s all. And of course, the mother——”
“The mother!” Her breath came and went in a little gasp.
Watching her closely he saw her turn very white. “I beg your pardon!” He was very quick, very adroit. “But you pin me down. And you mean so much to one, you know. In the Office we have come quite to depend on you. I can’t help thinking of you almost as a girl of my own.”