On a certain Tuesday night, the debate on a private member's bill unexpectedly collapsed, and the House rose early. Ashe left the House with his secretary, but parted from him at the corner of Birdcage Walk, and crossed the park alone. He meant to join Kitty at a party in Piccadilly; there was just time to go home and dress; and he walked at a quick pace.
Two members sitting on the same side of the House with himself were also going home. One of them noticed the Under-Secretary.
"A very ineffective statement Ashe made to-night—don't you think so?" he said to his companion.
"Very! Really, if the government can't take up a stronger line, the general public will begin to think there's something in it."
"Oh, if you only shriek long enough and sharp enough in England something's sure to come of it. Cliffe and his group have been playing a very shrewd game. The government will get their agreement approved all right, but Cliffe has certainly made some people on our side uneasy. However—"
"However, what?" said the other, after a moment.
"I wish I thought that were the only reason for Ashe's change of tone," said the first speaker, slowly.
"What do you mean?"
The two were intimate personal friends, belonging, moreover, to a group of evangelical families well known in English life; but even so, the answer came with reluctance:
"Well, you see, it's not very easy to grapple in public with the man whose name all smart London happens to be coupling with that of your wife!"