his mind that nothing in life was really clear,
all things were mingled and charged, and that patriotism might be an
uplifting passion even if it had to allow for Lord Bottomley and for Mr.
Carteret's blindness on certain sides. He presently noticed that
half-past seven was about to strike, and as he went back to his old
friend's he couldn't have said if he walked in gladness or in gloom.

"Mr. Carteret will be in the drawing-room at a quarter to eight, sir,"
Chayter mentioned, and Nick as he went to dress asked himself what was
the use of being a member of Parliament if one was still sensitive to an
intimation on the part of such a functionary that one ought already to
have begun that business. Chayter's words but meant that Mr. Carteret
would expect to have a little comfortable conversation with him before
dinner. Nick's usual rapidity in dressing was, however, quite adequate
to the occasion, so that his host had not appeared when he went down.
There were flowers in the unfeminine saloon, which contained several
paintings in addition to the engravings of pictures of animals; but
nothing could prevent its reminding Nick of a comfortable
committee-room.

Mr. Carteret presently came in with his gold-headed stick, a laugh like
a series of little warning coughs and the air of embarrassment that our
young man always perceived in him at first. He was almost eighty but was
still shy--he laughed a great deal, faintly and vaguely, at nothing, as
if to make up for the seriousness with which he took some jokes. He
always began by looking away from his interlocutor, and it was only
little by little that his eyes came round; after which their limpid and
benevolent blue made you wonder why they should ever be circumspect. He
was clean-shaven and had a long upper lip. When he had seated himself he
talked of "majorities" and showed a disposition to converse on the
general subject of the fluctuation of Liberal gains. He had an
extraordinary memory for facts of this sort, and could mention the
figures relating to the returns from innumerable places in particular
years. To many of these facts he attached great importance, in his
simple, kindly, presupposing way; correcting himself five minutes later
if he had said that in 1857 some one had had 6014 instead of 6004.

Nick always felt a great hypocrite as he listened to him, in spite of
the old man's courtesy--a thing so charming in itself that it would have
been grossness to speak of h