The guest's voice broke in—"You mean, I take it, that the people who are going to make the peace are the people who have not yet learnt discipline?"
"Yes, sir—that's about it. They haven't learnt to think for their side instead of their own private ends."
"Call 'em politicians and have done with it, Pongo!"
"Well, they are—aren't they? They get the politicians they like, and they appoint men of their own sort, so they are all politicians really."
"Well, I think that's being rather hard on them. They have to take the men the party whips gave them. I think they're a poor lot, but I wouldn't call them politicians."
The guest moved uneasily. "I don't quite see your point," he said. "Is the term 'politician' one of reproach or praise? I once stood for my local constituency and——"
The young officer with his heels on the stove gave a sudden snort. "Don't you believe him, he's pulling your legs—so don't apologise. He's no politician, anyway."
The guest laughed. "Well, I'm not in politics now," he said. "What is your definition of this strange animal?"
There was a pause, and then a cautious reply, "Well, he's an M.P."
"But I know some very charming M.P.'s—are they all politicians?"