were
not in the least upset. He felt certain things in spite of them, that
was all. There was an uncomfortable emptiness about a day on which he
did not see her, and when at night he waited for her outside the shabby
stage door of the Strand Theatre his heart would go thump-thump in a
manner over which he had no control, but which seemed so very remotely
connected with himself as he understood the term that he made no account
of it. Killigrew said very little to him on the subject once he had
found that he really did not like being chaffed about the fair Blanche,
but it at once lowered Killigrew in Ishmael's estimation, and yet made
him less certain about his own feelings, that he knew Killigrew did not
share his enthusiasm.

Blanche had one of those definite personalities there is no overlooking,
that people, especially men, either adore or actively dislike. Killigrew
had never said he did not like her, but Ishmael felt the fact none the
less certainly. And, as a matter of fact, Killigrew himself was puzzled
by Miss Grey. He was certain enough that she was technically
"good"--what Carminow called "all right"--and he admitted her charm, but
to him the over-emphasis she laid on everything, as on that action of
hers in coming down for the lamp, made the charm of no avail. He went to
the house in Cecil Street a few times with Ishmael and then washed his
hands of the affair.

When Ishmael was not allowed in the presence, then Killigrew still took
him round the town and was not unamused to notice that his tastes had
begun to alter. He was more interested in the personal note, less in
things. Horticultural shows no longer lured him, polytechnics flaunted
in vain.

He went once to the House of Commons and heard a debate on Russell's
abortive Reform Bill, which was to sound the knell of that Minister's
career. Ishmael heard Gladstone in the Bill's defence defying an attack
by Lowe, whilst Mr. Disraeli leant back with a slight smile on his face,
which was a blot of pallor beneath his dark, oiled ringlets. Ishmael was
stirred, yet in him something felt amazement and disappointment. These
were only men after all, not demigods, and some of them were peevish,
some rude, some bored and inattentive. The whole thing seemed somehow
childish; it was difficult to believe, except later when Bright's golden
tongue was speaking, that in this place the nation was governed....
Afterwards he was with the crowd, borne helplessly along, that