ied! Yet he rather prided himself
on his knowledge of women, of whom he had seen something. But all he
found to say was:

"I'm glad of this chance."

Then suddenly looking up, he found her strangely pale and quivering.

"I shall see you in London!" she said; and, touching her horse with her
whip, without looking back, she rode away over the hill.

Courtier returned to the moor road, and getting into the car, muttered:

"Faster, please, Frith!"....

CHAPTER XXII

Polling was already in brisk progress when Courtier arrived in
Bucklandbury; and partly from a not unnatural interest in the result,
partly from a half-unconscious clinging to the chance of catching another
glimpse of Barbara, he took his bag to the hotel, determined to stay for
the announcement of the poll. Strolling out into the High Street he
began observing the humours of the day. The bloom of political belief
had long been brushed off the wings of one who had so flown the world's
winds. He had seen too much of more vivid colours to be capable now of
venerating greatly the dull and dubious tints of blue and yellow. They
left him feeling extremely philosophic. Yet it was impossible to get
away from them, for the very world that day seemed blue and yellow, nor
did the third colour of red adopted by both sides afford any clear
assurance that either could see virtue in the other; rather, it seemed to
symbolize the desire of each to have his enemy's blood. But Courtier
soon observed by the looks cast at his own detached, and perhaps
sarcastic, face, that even more hateful to either side than its
antagonist, was the philosophic eye. Unanimous was the longing to heave
half a brick at it whenever it showed itself. With its d---d
impartiality, its habit of looking through the integument of things to
see if there might be anything inside, he felt that they regarded it as
the real adversary--the eternal foe to all the little fat 'facts,' who,
dressed up in blue and yellow, were swaggering and staggering, calling
each other names, wiping each other's eyes, blooding each other's noses.
To these little solemn delicious creatures, all front and no behind, the
philosophic eye, with its habit of looking round the corner, was clearly
detestable. The very yellow and very blue bodies of these roistering
small warriors with their hands on their tin swords and their lips on
their tin trumpets, started up in every window and on every wall
confronting each