the woman who thinks
generally thinks of what she ought not to.'

Later, in the drawing-room, he looked for her again, and looked
unsuccessfully. The window, however, was open, and he advanced to
it. Clarice was on the balcony alone, her elbows on the rail, a hand
on either side of her cheek. Something in her attitude made him
almost pity her.

'Mrs. Mallinson,' he said, 'you will probably think me intrusive, but do
you think your visit really wise?' Clarice turned towards him quickly
with something of defiance in her manner. 'You are tired,' he went on,
'you want rest. Well, an election isn't a very restful time, even for the
onlooker.'

Clarice did not reply for a moment, and when she did she replied with an
impulsive frankness, to which his friendly tone had prompted her. 'To
tell you the truth, I am not anxious to go. I don't want to, but Sidney
wants to.'

'Your husband?'

'You don't believe me.'

'Of course I do.' He left her on the balcony, and went in search of
Mallinson. 'So you go to Bentbridge for the election,' he said.

'Yes,' replied the other, lighting up. 'I am looking forward to it like a
schoolboy to a football match. The prospect of activity exhilarates
me--bodily activity, don't you know--a town humming with excitement.'

Fielding cut him short. 'My dear fellow, you're a damned fool,' he said.

CHAPTER XIII

Stephen Drake had decided to stay during the period of the election at a
hotel in the centre of the town, rather than to accept an invitation from
Captain Le Mesurier, who lived some miles beyond the outskirts. He
travelled down to Bentbridge on the day that the dissolution was
announced, and during the journey Mr. Burl gave him much sage advice.

'Keep the arguments for buildings; they're in place there. Mass-meetings
in the open air want something different. Many a good man has lost his
seat from not observing that rule. In the open air pitch out a fact or
two--not too many--or a couple of round sums of figures first of all,
just to give them confidence in you, and then go straight for your
opponent. No rapier play--it's lost then--but crack him on the top-knot
with a bludgeon. They'll want to hear his skull ring before they'll
believe that you have touched him. Phrases! Those are the things to get
you in, not arguments. Pin a label on his coat-tails. You'll see them
laugh as he squirms round to pull it off. And, mind you, there'll be no
walking over, you'll want all you