Tallente, notwithstanding the glow of happiness which had taken him down to Westminster with the bearing of a young man, felt occasional little shivers of doubt as he leaned back in his seat during the intervals of a brief but portentous debate and let his mind wander back to that short hour when he seemed to have emptied out all the hidden yearnings which had been lurking in the dark corners of his heart and soul.  His love for Jane had no longer the boyish characteristics of a vague worship.  He made no further pretences to himself.  It was Jane herself, and not the spirit of her sex dwelling in her body, which he desired.  A tardy heritage of passion at times rejuvenated him and at others stretched him upon the rack.

He walked home later with Dartrey, clinging to the man with a new sympathy and drinking in with queer content some measure of his happiness.  Dartrey himself seemed a little ashamed of its exuberance.

“If it weren’t that Nora is so entirely a disciple of our cause, Tallente,” he said, “I think I should feel a little like the man in the ‘Pilgrim’s Progress,’ who stopped to pick flowers by the way.  She is such a help, though.  It was she who pointed out the flaw in that second amendment of Saunderson’s, which I had very nearly passed.  Did you read her article in the National, too?”

“Wonderful!” Tallente murmured.  “There is no living woman who writes such vivid and convincing prose.”

“And the amazing part of it all is,” Dartrey went on, “that she seeks no reward except just to see the cause prosper.  She hasn’t the faintest ambition to fill any post in life which could be filled by a man.  She would write anonymously if it were possible.  She has insight which amounts to inspiration, yet whenever I am with her she makes me feel that her greatest gift is her femininity.”

“It must be the most wonderful thing in life to have the help of any one like Nora,” Tallente said dreamily.

“My friend,” the other rejoined, “I wish I could make you believe this.  There is room in the life of the busiest man in the world for an understanding woman.  I’ll go further.  No man can do his best work without her.”

“I believe you are right,” Tallente assented.

His friend pressed his arm kindly.

“You’ve ploughed a lonely furrow for a good many years, Tallente,” he said.  “Nora talks of you so often and so wistfully.  She is such an understanding creature.—­No, don’t go.  Just one whisky and soda.  It used to be chocolate, but Nora insists upon making a man of me.”

Tallente was a little in the shadow of the hall and he witnessed the greeting between Nora and her husband:  saw her come out of the study,—­a soft, entrancing figure in the little circle of firelight gleaming through the open door.  She threw her arms around Dartrey’s neck and kissed him.

“Dear,” she exclaimed, “how early you are!  Come and have an easy-chair by the fire and tell me how every one’s been behaving.”