George frowned slightly.
"Politics," he observed, "are not a game, and with regard to your knowing nothing about them—I suppose you can learn. You have plenty of ability if you care to use it. Sir Henry Martin was telling me only yesterday that your paper about New Guinea in the Fortnightly was quoted by practically every witness at the Royal Commission.
"Good!" said I. "That must be why the editor wants me to write him something about Kashmir."
George nodded his head approvingly.
"I hope you will do so. Nowadays serious journalism is as good an introduction to a political career as you could possibly have. Besides, one would like to feel that all these years of wandering about have not been entirely wasted."
"Oh, they've not been wasted, George," I said. "I've enjoyed 'em enormously. The only thing is they've rather put me off what people call civilization. I can stand a couple of months of London, but I'm afraid I should get frightfully fed up if I stopped here much longer."
George leaned back in his chair and drummed lightly on the table with his fingers.
"That," he said, "is due to the fact that you have no steadying influence in your life. When you have once settled down to regular work, you will find that this unfortunate restlessness will disappear." Then he paused: "It would be a good thing if you were to get married," he added.
"What, on my income?" I exclaimed; for I knew George had rather spacious notions about the family dignity.
George nodded.