"They want a Britton to lead them again. After your uncle's retirement, the big men pleaded with him to enter the arena once more, and I believe he would have yielded to their entreaties had death spared him.
"Now they clamor for you in his stead. Only a Britton will satisfy them. Commercial interest as well as political prosperity hangs on that name. Don't offer refusal! I won't hear of it; Trascott will not listen to it; and no member of the place can bear its mention."
Ainsworth's vehemence wakened the paddlers, and they slapped the water idly with their blades. The crimson disc of the sun had vanished. The river surface changed to a perfect violet hue.
"It's a big thing," said Britton, slowly–"tremendously big, and it has come like a Bennett wind!"
"The day of nomination is the same date that your uncle fixed for the condition of taking possession," Ainsworth remarked. "Thus there was a double reason for my haste, and the reasons still hold. We must make a start for home immediately. Delays may arise, and we can't run the thing too fine."
Rex knocked the dead tobacco from his pipe on the heel of his prospecting boot.
"Yes," he mused, "we'll go back to the downs, but my comprehension is still slow."
"If you serve well, they'll put the word 'Honorable' before your name," his friend commenced in a lighter vein. "Then you know there's the daughter of the Duchess! You used to be sweet on her when you were attending Oxford."
Britton started suddenly at a recollection, though not at the one Ainsworth had prompted, and looked toward the river bar.
"Yes, tell me what the woman is doing there," the lawyer begged, following his glance. "I have refrained from asking any questions."