. ...
Did you go and see him--when he was dying?

DIST. V. I used to go and see him when I could--yes, frequently; we had
been great friends. Not immediately--a month or two before, was the last
time, I think.

CHAMBERLAIN. And so with him, too, you could say that you remained friends
to the last! You have had a wonderful career: friends, enemies, they all
loved you. Gladstone (who hadn't as a rule much love for his political
opponents) made an exception in your case.

DIST. V. Yes, I owed a great deal to his generous friendship. It gave me
confidence.

CHAMBERLAIN. Harcourt, too, always spoke of you with affection.

DIST. V. Oh, yes; we had a brotherly feeling about Rosebery, you know.

CHAMBERLAIN (_ignoring his diversion_). Randolph hadn't though. He
was bitter.

DIST. V. Randolph was a performer who just once exceeded his promise, and
then could never get back to it. That was his tragedy. Strange how, when
he lost his following, his brilliancy all went with it.

CHAMBERLAIN. Yes, it was strange, in one so independent of others. He had
a great faculty, at one time, for not caring, for being (or seeming)
ruthless. It's a gift that a politician must envy. It hasn't been my way
to lose my heart in politics: it's not safe. But--you charmed me.

(_There is an implication here that the quiet tone has not obscured. And
so the direct question comes_:)

DIST. V. Chamberlain, I must ask. What is there between us?

CHAMBERLAIN. Nothing--nothing now at all--or very little.

DIST. V. No, no; you are too sincere to pretend to misunderstand me like
that.

CHAMBERLAIN. In politics can one afford to be quite--sincere? Openly, I
mean?

DIST. V. You have been--far more than others I could name.

CHAMBERLAIN. That is a friendly judgment. Others wouldn't say so. If a man
stays in politics till he ceases to be important, while others remain
important, there's bound to be a change of relations.

DIST. V. In our case I don't admit that it has happened.

CHAMBERLAIN. Don't you? You were our partyleader. I broke away; so you had
to break me. From your point of view you were right. I thought I knew the
game better than you. I made a mistake.

DIST. V. Do you mean, then, that you intended to break _me_?

CHAMBERLAIN. Oh, no. But I meant to--persuade you.

DIST. V. My view is that you did--very thoroughly. Surely I went a long
way--conceded a great deal.

CHAMBERLAIN. "Half a sheet of note-paper" was the measure of it.