"Is not that another form of selfishness?" remarked Leicester.
"But surely, Leicester," said Purvis, "you do not mean that you confess to these sordid motives;—that you regard politics as only a game to play, in order to win applause? Do you mean to say that you are no better than the crowd you describe?"
"My dear fellow, I am a great deal better, for the simple truth that I am honest. I don't profess to having these high sentiments which some boast of."
"The last time I heard you speak," said Purvis, "you spoke in no measured terms of the present Government. You declared it to be the bounden duty of the country to thrust it from power. Why did you say this if one party is as good as another, and all men uniformly selfish?"
"Because they do not play the game well," replied Leicester quietly; "because they make false moves, and because it grates upon one's artistic feelings to see a thing done badly. I would for the same reason hoot an orchestra off a platform for making discords. To begin with, the present Government have a very poor piece, and, secondly, they play it very badly. Miss Castlemaine," he added, turning to Olive, "please forgive us for talking in this way; but you see we are all alike. All men talk shop, just the same as women do."
"The part you are acting now is very interesting to me," said Olive, with a laugh.
"And to me also," said Leicester, looking at Purvis. "Indeed, when one comes to think of it, all parts played seriously, especially when a great deal depends on the way one plays them, are tremendously interesting."
"Then you admit you are acting a part?"
"Are we not all acting a part?" replied Leicester.
"And for the amusement of the audience?"