rmured "Forgot you didn't know, sir. Bertie will
explain."

Thus called on, Bertie, opening his lips a very little way, and fixing
his half-closed eyes on his great-uncle, explained. There was a lady at
the cottage--a nice woman--Mr. Courtier knew her--old Miltoun went there
sometimes--rather late the other evening--these devils were making the
most of it--suggesting--lose him the election, if they didn't look out.
Perfect rot, of course!

In his opinion, old Miltoun, though as steady as Time, had been a flat to
let the woman come out with him on to the Green, showing clearly where he
had been, when he ran to Courtier's rescue. You couldn't play about with
women who had no form that anyone knew anything of, however promising
they might look.

Then, out of a silence Winlow asked: What was to be done? Should Miltoun
be wired for? A thing like this spread like wildfire! Sir William--a
man not accustomed to underrate difficulties--was afraid it was going to
be troublesome. Harbinger expressed the opinion that the editor ought to
be kicked. Did anybody know what Courtier had done when he heard of it.
Where was he--dining in his room? Bertie suggested that if Miltoun was
at Valleys House, it mightn't be too late to wire to him. The thing
ought to be stemmed at once! And in all this concern about the situation
there kept cropping out quaint little outbursts of desire to disregard
the whole thing as infernal insolence, and metaphorically to punch the
beggars' heads, natural to young men of breeding.

Then, out of another silence came the voice of Lord Dennis:

"I am thinking of this poor lady."

Turning a little abruptly towards that dry suave voice, and recovering
the self-possession which seldom deserted him, Harbinger murmured:

"Quite so, sir; of course!"

CHAPTER IX

In the lesser withdrawing room, used when there was so small a party,
Mrs. Winlow had gone to the piano and was playing to herself, for Lady
Casterley, Lady Valleys, and her two daughters had drawn together as
though united to face this invading rumour.

It was curious testimony to Miltoun's character that, no more here than
in the dining-hall, was there any doubt of the integrity of his relations
with Mrs. Noel. But whereas, there the matter was confined to its
electioneering aspect, here that aspect was already perceived to be only
the fringe of its importance. Those feminine minds, going with intuitive
swiftness to the core of