u wish to send a message to my father," she answered, "would it
not be well for you to write to him? Good afternoon." And she moved
as if to pass on.

"No," replied Paul quietly. "I want you to take a message direct from
me, and doubtless he will tell Wilson. Please inform him that I have
discovered the author of the circular which was sent broadcast during
the election, and that I have proofs of the plot to ruin me. Doubtless
he will be interested."

Without another word he passed on. A little later, Mary Bolitho left
Brunford with her father. A fairly large crowd gathered at the
Brunford station to see them off, and there were all sorts of shouting
and congratulations; but Mary was very silent, and during the whole of
the journey to Manchester she scarcely spoke a word. She said nothing
of her meeting with Paul that day. It seemed to her that something had
closed her lips. She knew not why. One thing, however, gave her a
feeling of gratification--she had made it impossible for Wilson to make
his declaration of love. She knew she had only put it off for a time,
and she dreaded the evil day.

Meanwhile, she was glad that he had not spoken to her, for Mary knew
that if she accepted him, she would do so largely, if not altogether,
at the wish of her father. For some reason or other Ned Wilson and he
had become exceedingly friendly, and she believed, although her father
had said nothing definite to her about it, that he favoured Ned's suit.
And she loved her father with a great love, and would not, if she could
help it, do anything to displease him. For Mary belonged to those who
were held fast by old-fashioned views concerning the obedience due from
children to their parents. In this respect she was a child of a past
generation. She had a horror of anything like the modern woman
movement, and did not claim that so-called emancipation by which they
give up their superiority to men, in order to become their equals.

She determined, too, that she would go away on a long visit to a
friend, giving as an excuse to her father that she was overwrought by
the election and needed a rest. In this way she thought she would, for
a time at all events, postpone the day of decision in relation to the
suit which she knew Ned Wilson was longing to urge.

In a few days the excitement of the election had calmed down at
Brunford. The jubilation of the victors spent itself, as did the
disappointment of those who were van