"But, man, it'll be——"
"It's not worth the candle," said Leicester; "what's the odds which party is in? Liberal or Conservative, it's only a question of which set of maggots shall eat the cheese." The words which MacGregor had spoken about his wife had stung him.
"But that's all nonsense. It's true you've lately got married, but you must go down and fight. It'll be all beer and skittles with you. A good speaker like you, and just married to a charming and rich wife, can do anything. An electioneering honeymoon! My word, that will be a new thing in wedded life. Quite a subject for a romance. By the way, I have not congratulated you. How is Mrs. Leicester?"
He turned on his heel and walked away.
"Hullo, Leicester," said another man, "here you are. By the way, what is the truth about that paragraph I saw in the papers?"
"Oh, it's all right."
"Is—is Miss Castlemaine seriously ill?"
"I don't know, and I don't care."
"You don't mean to say that——"
"I mean to say that I'll have a drink with you, Bryant," he said.