“Uncle Charles, a dhrop of the craythur a wee dhrop of the craythur?”
General Pendyce caressed his whisker.
“The least touch,” he said, “the least touch! I hear that our friend Sir Percival is going to stand again.”
Mr. Barter rose and placed his back before the fire.
“Outrageous!” he said. “He ought to be told at once that we can't have him.”
The Hon. Geoffrey Winlow answered from his chair:
“If he puts up, he'll get in; they can't afford to lose him.” And with a leisurely puff of smoke: “I must say, sir, I don't quite see what it has to do with his public life.”
Mr. Barter thrust forth his lower lip.
“An impenitent man,” he said.
“But a woman like that! What chance has a fellow if she once gets hold of him?”