In a few hurried words with Ferrier, before the meeting of the House, Marsham gave the result of his visit to Beechcote.  Diana had been, of course, very much shaken, but was bearing the thing bravely.  They were engaged, but nothing was to be said in public for at least six months, so as to give Lady Lucy time to reconsider.

“Though, of course, I know, as far as that is concerned, we might as well be married to-morrow and have done with it!”

“Ah!—­but it is due to her—­to your mother.”

“I suppose it is.  But the whole situation is grotesque.  I must look out for some way of making money.  Any suggestions thankfully received!”

Marsham spoke with an irritable flippancy.  Ferrier’s hazel eyes, set and almost lost in spreading cheeks, dwelt upon him thoughtfully.

“All right; I will think of some.  You explained the position to Miss Mallory?”

“No,” said Marsham, shortly.  “How could I?”

The alternatives flew through Ferrier’s mind:  “Cowardice?—­or delicacy?” Aloud, he said:  “I am afraid she will not be long in ignorance.  It will be a big fight for her, too.”

Marsham shrugged his thin shoulders.

“Of course.  And all for nothing.  Hullo, Fleming!—­do you want me?”

For the Liberal Chief Whip had paused beside them where they stood, in a corner of the smoking-room, as though wishing to speak to one or other of them, yet not liking to break up their conversation.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” he said to Marsham.  “But can I have a word presently?”

“Now, if you like.”

“Come to the Terrace,” said the other, and they went out into the gray of a March afternoon.  There they walked up and down for some time, engaged in an extremely confidential conversation.  Signs of a general election were beginning to be strong and numerous.  The Tory Government was weakening visibly, and the Liberals felt themselves in sight of an autumn, if not a summer, dissolution.  But—­funds!—­there was the rub.  The party coffers were very poorly supplied, and unless they could be largely replenished, and at once, the prospects of the election were not rosy.

Marsham had hitherto counted as one of the men on whom the party could rely.  It was known that his own personal resources were not great, but he commanded his mother’s ample purse.  Lady Lucy had always shown herself both loyal and generous, and at her death it was, of course, assumed that he would be her heir.  Lady Lucy’s check, in fact, sent, through her son, to the leading party club, had been of considerable importance in the election five years before this date, in which Marsham himself had been returned; the Chief Whip wanted to assure himself that in case of need it would be repeated.

But for the first time in a conversation of this kind Marsham’s reply was halting and uncertain.  He would do his best, but he could not pledge himself.  When the Chief Whip, disappointed and astonished, broke up their conference, Marsham walked into the House after him, in the morbid belief that a large part of his influence and prestige with his party was already gone.  Let those fellows, he thought, who imagine that the popular party can be run without money, inform themselves, and not talk like asses!