voice. "I hope it won't be many days
before Mr. Quisante tells the House of Commons what he's told us
to-night."

Should she say that he would not tell anything to the House of Commons
for many days, probably not ever, that his voice would not be heard
there? They would not believe her, she hardly would believe herself. In
that hour illness and retirement seemed dim and distant, unreal and a
little ludicrous. She abandoned herself to the temptation pressed upon
her and talked as though her husband were to lead all through the
campaign that he had opened.

"I never saw him looking better in my life," said Foster.

As he spoke a short thick-set man with grey hair pushed by him. Old
Foster caught him by the wrist, crying with a laugh, "Why, Doctor, what
are you doing here? You're one of the enemy!"

"I came to hear the speech."

"A good'un, eh?"

"Never mind the speech. Take me over to Mr. Quisante--now, directly."

"What for?"

"He must go home."

"Go home? Nonsense. He's all right."

Dr. Tillman wrenched his hand away, shook his head scornfully, and
started across the room toward where Quisante was. May laid her hand on
old Foster's arm.

"What did he say? Does he think my husband ill?"

"I don't know. It's all nonsense."

Another voice broke in.

"A triumph, Lady May, a triumph indeed!"

She turned to find the Dean and Marchmont close behind her, and the Dean
holding out his hand as he spoke.

"Yes, yes," she said hurriedly and uncomfortably. "It was fine, wasn't
it?"

"It was magnificent," said Marchmont.

"Thanks, thanks." Her tone was still hurried, absent, ungracious. The two
looked at her in surprise. Where was the radiance of triumph that had lit
up her face as she signalled to them from the platform? They had expected
to find her full of the speech and had been prepared to give her joy by
the warmth and sincerity of their praise.

"What's the matter?" whispered Marchmont.

"Do you see that short man, the one with grey hair, trying to get near
Alexander It's the doctor--Dr. Tillman. He can't get near Alexander."

"What does he want?"

"I don't know. He thinks he ought to go home. He thinks--Ah, now he's
getting to him! Look! He's speaking to him now!"

They saw the doctor come up to Quisante and Quisante smile as he waited
for the visitor to introduce himself. The doctor began to speak quickly
and energetically. "Oh, thank you very much, but I'm all right," came
suddenly in loud cl