After dinner they sat alone in the little room on which Paul had bestowed so much attention, and she wondered whether he had beard the news which bad brought her so much pain.
"It was a great speech you made, Paul!" she said, when they had been sitting quietly for some time.
"Nonsense, mother!" was his reply. "Nonsense; it was a failure!"
"No, no. I read every word, Paul, and it was not a failure. You're going to be a great man, my son!"
He laughed bitterly. He remembered the letter which Judge Bolitho had written to him. "I feel as though I don't care about anything!" he went on at length. "What's the good of success? What are we in the House of Commons, after all, but a lot of voting machines? What does it matter which party is in power?"
"Nay, nay, Paul. That's not like you to talk so!"
"I'm tired of it—tired of everything!" he went on.
"You're thinking about that lass!" said his mother, and although he made no reply, she knew she was right.
"Have you ever seen her?" she asked at length.
He nodded.