boy's
sympathy. I believe I care more for him than for any living creature. I
decided to give him some notion of my position.

Sooner or later he would have to learn it.

"I would rather like to tell you something," said I, "about my
engagement--in confidence, of course. When Eleanor Faversham comes back
I propose to ask her to release me from it."

He drew a long breath. "I'm glad. She's an awfully nice girl, but
she's no more in love with you than my mother is. But it'll be rather
difficult, won't it?"

"I don't think so," I replied, shaking my head. "It's a question of
health. My doctors absolutely forbid it."

A look of affectionate alarm sprang into his eyes. He broke into
sympathy. My health? Why had I not told him before? In Heaven's name,
what was the matter with me?

"Something silly," said I. "Nothing you need worry about on my account.
Only I must go _piano_ for the rest of my days. Marriage isn't to be
thought of. There is something else I must tell you. I must resign my
seat."

"Resign your seat? Give up Parliament? When?"

"As soon as possible."

He looked at me aghast, as if the world were coming to an end.

"We had better concoct an epistle to Raggles this morning."

"But you can't be serious?"

"I can sometimes, my dear Dale. This is one of the afflicting
occasions."

"You out of Parliament? You out of public life? It's inconceivable. It's
damnable. But you're just coming into your own--what Raggles said, what
I told you yesterday. But it can't be. You can hold on. I'll do all the
drudgery for you. I'll work night and day."

And he tramped up and down the room, uttering the disconnected phrases
which an honest young soul unaccustomed to express itself emotionally
blurts out in moments of deep feeling.

"It's no use, Dale," said I, "I've got my marching orders."

"But why should they come just now?"

"When the sweets of office are dangling at my lips? It's pretty simple."
I laughed. "It's one of the little ironies that please the high gods
so immensely. They have an elementary sense of humour--like that of
the funny fellow who pulls your chair from under you and shrieks with
laughter when you go wallop on to the floor. Well, I don't grudge them
their amusement. They must have a dull time settling mundane affairs,
and a little joke goes a long way with them, as it does in the House
of Commons. Fancy sitting on those green benches legislating for all
eternity, with never a recess an