“I wish you were in the House, Goddard,” said Gleam.
“Get me a seat and I’ll come,” he replied with a laugh.
“You’ll have the Hough division offered you according to general whisper.”
“Not under a miracle,” said Goddard. “The moderate element in the constituency is too strong.”
“I heard they were going to run an Independent Labour candidate,” interposed Lady Phayre. “I know the neighbourhood pretty well. Some friends I often stay with live near Ecclesby, and I hear the local gossip through them.”
“They would withdraw the Labour man and support Goddard, if he stood,” explained Gleam.
But Goddard laughed deprecatingly and shook his head.
“It is all in the clouds. Repson has not resigned the seat yet. It is only a rumour that he intends doing so, and haste in the matter would be indecent. Anyhow,” he added, after a pause, to Lady Phayre, “if you would tell Mr. Gleam any news you may get, you would be doing me a service.”
“Why not come and get it first hand?” asked Lady Phayre sweetly. “I should be most pleased to see you if you would call—13 Queen’s Court Mansions—Tuesdays.”
“You are very kind,” said Goddard, bowing. “I had better give you a card,” she said, taking one from an elaborate little memoranda-book; “then you won’t forget the address.”