“But you know I always do,” she objected.
“Yes, I know. But a fellow likes to hear it, Dora—on the day, you know. And I’ve seen so little of you lately.”
She looked at him measuringly. “You’re looking awfully thin,” she exclaimed, with sudden compunction. “I wish you had never gone into this horrid campaign. I wish they had nominated somebody else.”
Lorne smiled half-bitterly. “I shouldn’t wonder if a few other people wished the same thing,” he said. “But I’m afraid they’ll have to make the best of it now.”
Dora had not sanctioned his visit by sitting down; and as he came nearer to her she drew a step away, moving by instinct from the capture of the lover. But he had made little of that, and almost as he spoke was at her side. She had to yield her hands to him.
“Well, you’ll win it for them if anybody could,” she assured him.
“Say ‘win it for us,’ dear.”
She shook her head. “I’m not a Liberal—yet,” she said, laughing.
“It’s only a question of time.”
“I’ll never be converted to Grit politics.”