Marsham spoke with an irritable flippancy. Ferrier's hazel eyes, set and almost lost in spreading cheeks, dwelt upon him thoughtfully.
"All right; I will think of some. You explained the position to Miss Mallory?"
"No," said Marsham, shortly. "How could I?"
The alternatives flew through Ferrier's mind: "Cowardice?--or delicacy?" Aloud, he said: "I am afraid she will not be long in ignorance. It will be a big fight for her, too."
Marsham shrugged his thin shoulders.
"Of course. And all for nothing. Hullo, Fleming!--do you want me?"
For the Liberal Chief Whip had paused beside them where they stood, in a corner of the smoking-room, as though wishing to speak to one or other of them, yet not liking to break up their conversation.
"Don't let me interrupt," he said to Marsham. "But can I have a word presently?"
"Now, if you like."
"Come to the Terrace," said the other, and they went out into the gray of a March afternoon. There they walked up and down for some time, engaged in an extremely confidential conversation. Signs of a general election were beginning to be strong and numerous. The Tory Government was weakening visibly, and the Liberals felt themselves in sight of an autumn, if not a summer, dissolution. But--funds!--there was the rub. The party coffers were very poorly supplied, and unless they could be largely replenished, and at once, the prospects of the election were not rosy.