to you for having come so promptly," he said, with
melancholy courtesy. "I thought we should have met soon--on an
occasion--more agreeable to us both. As you are here, forgive me if I
talk business. This rough-and-tumble world has to be carried on, and if
it suits you, I shall be happy to recommend your appointment to her
Majesty--as a Junior Lord of the Treasury--carrying with it, as of
course you understand, the office of Second Whip."

Ten minutes later Marsham left the Prime Minister's house. As he walked
back to St. Pancras, he was conscious of yet another smart added to the
rest. If _anything_ were offered to him, he had certainly hoped for
something more considerable.

It looked as though while the Ferrier influence had ignored him, the
Darcy influence had not troubled itself to do much for him. That he had
claims could not be denied. So this very meagre bone had been flung him.
But if he had refused it, he would have got nothing else.

The appointment would involve re-election. All that infernal business to
go through again!--probably in the very midst of disturbances in the
mining district. The news from the collieries was as bad as it could be.

* * * * *

He reached home very late--close on midnight. His mother had gone to
bed, ill and worn out, and was not to be disturbed. Isabel Fotheringham
and Alicia awaited him in the drawing-room.

Mrs. Fotheringham had arrived in the course of the evening. She herself
was peevish with fatigue, incurred in canvassing for two of Lord
Philip's most headlong supporters. Personally, she had broken with John
Ferrier some weeks before the election; but the fact had made more
impression on her own mind than on his.

"Well, Oliver, this is a shocking thing! However, of course, Ferrier had
been unhealthy for a long time; any one could see that. It was really
better it should end so."

"You take it calmly!" he said, scandalized by her manner and tone.

"I am sorry, of course. But Ferrier had outlived himself. The people I
have been working among felt him merely in the way. But, of course, I am
sorry mamma is dreadfully upset. That one must expect. Well, now
then--you have seen Broadstone?"

She rose to question him, the political passion in her veins asserting
itself against her weariness. She was still in her travelling dress.
From her small, haggard face the reddish hair was drawn tightly back;
the spectacled eyes, the dry lips, expres