an war, the idiots are fond of drums and fifes and military
swagger; they haven't brains enough to picture a battle-field."

"You are severe, Mrs. Wade. I should never have ventured"----

"You are still afraid of telling _me_ the truth!"

"Well, let us rejoice in the exceptions. Yourself, Lilian, my sister
Mary, for instance."

The widow let her eyes fall and kept silence.

"We hope you will dine with us on Friday of next week," said Denzil.
"Lilian posted you an invitation this morning. There will be a good
many people."

"Seriously then, I am to work for you, openly and vigorously?"

"What a contemptible fellow I should be if I wished you to hold aloof!"
He spoke sincerely, having overcome his misgivings of a short time ago.
"The fight will be fought on large questions, you know. I want to win,
but I have made up my mind to win honestly; it's a fortunate thing that
I probably sha'n't be called upon to declare my views on a thousand
side-issues."

"Don't be so sure of that. Polterham is paltry, even amid national
excitement."

"Confound it! then I will say what I think, and risk it. If they want a
man who will fight sincerely for the interests of the people, here he
is! I'm on the side of the poor devils; I wish to see them better off;
I wish to promote honest government, and chuck the selfish lubbers
overboard. Forgive the briny phrase; you know why it comes natural to
me."

Mrs. Wade gave him her kindest smile.

"You will win, no doubt of it; and not this battle only."

She rose, and half turned away.

"By-the-bye, shall you be able to finish your book?"

"It is finished. I wrote the last page yesterday morning. Wonderful,
wasn't it?"

"A good omen. My love to Lilian."

As they shook hands, Mrs. Wade just raised her eyes for an instant,
timorously. The look was quite unlike anything Denzil had yet seen on
her face. It caused him to stand for a few moments musing.

From half-past four to half-past six he took a long walk; such exercise
was a necessity with him, and the dwellers round about Polterham had
become familiar with the sight of his robust figure striding at a great
pace about roads and fields. Generally he made for some wayside inn,
where he could refresh himself with a tankard of beer, after which he
lit his pipe, and walked with it between his teeth. Toby Liversedge,
becoming aware of this habit, was inclined to doubt its prudence.
"Beware of the teetotalers, Denzil; they are a power a