n Leicester had said something which more
than ordinarily amused him, "my daughter ought to hear that, and we
might as well go into the drawing-room. You've finished your cigar,
haven't you?"
Leicester threw his cigar-end into the grate, and having finished his
whisky, he followed his host.
They found Purvis eagerly talking with Miss Castlemaine, and Leicester
knew the moment he entered that he had been the subject of their
conversation. She gave him a quick, searching glance, as if she could
scarcely believe what Purvis had been telling her. The look made him
angry. He had told Purvis that he was at liberty to make known his
character, and yet he keenly resented his communication. There had been
times when he had taken pleasure in his peculiar reputation; but to-day
everything seemed different. Still Leicester was not a man who shrunk
from a difficult situation; indeed, he presently found himself possessed
with a sort of savage joy, as he found himself uttering sentiments which
had become commonplaces to men of his way of thinking. Moreover, he
seemed desirous of showing Purvis that he did not desire to hide from
Miss Castlemaine the kind of man he really was.
"I hear you are making great progress in your constituency down in
Devonshire, Leicester," said Purvis.
"Oh yes, we are enjoying ourselves hugely down there," was the reply.
"For my own part, I do not find it fun to nurse a constituency," said
Purvis.
"That's because you do not look on the humorous side of the question,"
replied Leicester. "When one regards the whole business in the same
light as that in which a boy plays a game of marbles, it is great fun."
"I cannot think of the Government of my country in that light," said
Purvis loftily.
"No," said Leicester quietly; "well, tastes differ. Politics are just
what you make them, comedy or serious drama. And I prefer comedy."
"Thus it too often becomes a fiasco. A man becomes a member of
Parliament for the good of his country. He sacrifices his time and money
for the welfare of his fellow-creatures. At least he should. I know of
no higher calling than to be a legislator in one's own land. It is not
fun, it is duty."
"The greatest comedy I know of," said Leicester, "is the pretence to be
serious. I never laugh so immoderately as I do at so-called serious
drama. One can so easily see the make-up of the whole business. The
passion, the pathos, the high moral sentiment, the remorse, it is all
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