“Aren’t you going to eat your chop?” asked Lady Sophia.
“Hang my chop,” he cried, impatiently.
She raised her eyebrows.
“How is it possible that the news of Dr. Gray’s death can have such an effect on you, Theodore?”
“For goodness’ sake be quiet, and let me think,” he answered, without his usual politeness.
He had discussed the matter a dozen times with Sir John, and knew with what angry vehemence the brewer regarded this new power wherewith it was proposed to invest the Justices of the Peace. He was a stubborn, obstinate man, and had persuaded himself that it was an interference with the liberty of trade. On the other hand, he was an enthusiastic Conservative, and had no wish to put a Liberal Government in power, which would probably bring in temperance legislation of a much more drastic order. He was filled with the Imperialistic sentiment and dreaded the Radical indifference to his ideal of world supremacy. If Sir John could be induced to hear reason, it was probable that he would not insist on the withdrawal of the bill which public opinion had forced the Government to bring. But if left to himself, he might in a fit of temper throw all his influence with the Opposition. Whoever had Durant’s ear on this occasion was for the moment the most powerful man in England. A smile broke on the Canon’s lips. He drew a long breath.
“Sophia, I should like to speak a few words to Lionel.”
“I’ve just finished,” she said.
She did not hurry herself, but when it pleased her left the room. Canon Spratte turned eagerly to his son.
“Now, Lionel, I think you’ve shilly-shallied long enough. I want to know for good and all what you propose to do with regard to Gwendolen.”