"And some day you will be Lord Tranmore?"
"Yes, when my poor father dies," he said, sighing. He felt her fingers caress his hand again. It was a spirit touch, light and tender.
"And every one says you are so clever—you have such prospects. Perhaps you will be Prime Minister."
"Well, there's no saying," he threw out, laughing—"if you'll come and help."
He heard a sob.
"Help! I should be the ruin of you. I should spoil everything. You don't know the mischief I can do. And I can't help it, it's in my blood."
"You would like the game of politics too much to spoil it, Kitty." His voice broke and lingered on the name. "You would want to be a great lady and lead the party."
"Should I? Could you ever teach me how to behave?"
"You would learn by nature. Do you know, Kitty, how clever you are?"
"Yes," she sighed. "I am clever. But there is always something that hinders—that brings failure."