“Jolly, isn’t it?” said Ashe, looking round him—­“even this spoiled country!  Why did we go and stifle in that beastly show!”

The sensuous pleasure and relaxation of his mood communicated itself to Darrell.  They talked more intimately, more freely than they had done for months.  Darrell’s gnawing consciousness of his own meaner fortunes, as contrasted with the brilliant and expanding career of his school-friend, softened and relaxed.  He almost forgave Ashe the successes of the winter, and that subtly heightened tone of authority and self-confidence which here and there bore witness to them in the manner or talk of the minister.  They scarcely touched on politics, however.  Both were tired, and their talk drifted into the characteristic male gossip—­“What’s ——­ doing now?” “Do you ever see So-and-so?” “You remember that fellow at Univ.?”—­and the like, to the agreeable accompaniment of Ashe’s best cigars.

So pleasant was the half-hour, so strongly had the old college intimacy reasserted itself, that suddenly a thought struck upward in Darrell’s mind.  He had not come to Haggart bent merely on idle holiday—­far from it.  At the moment he was weary of literature as a profession, and sharply conscious that the time for vague ambitions had gone by.  A post had presented itself, a post of importance, in the gift of the Home Office.  It meant, no doubt, the abandonment of more brilliant things; Darrell was content to abandon them.  His determination to apply for it seemed, indeed, to himself an act of modesty—­almost of sacrifice.  As to the technical qualifications required, he was well aware there might be other men better equipped than himself.  But, after all, to what may not general ability aspire—­general ability properly stiffened with interest?

And as to interest, when was it ever to serve him if not now—­through his old friendship with Ashe?  Chivalry towards a much-solicited mortal, also your friend—­even the subtler self-love—­might have counselled silence—­or at least approaches more gradual.  It had been far from his purpose, indeed, to speak so promptly.  But here were the hour and the man!  And there, in a distant country town, a woman—­whereof the mere existence was unsuspected by Darrell’s country-house acquaintance—­sat waiting, in whose eyes the post in question loomed as a condition—­perhaps indispensable.  Darrell’s secret eagerness could not withstand the temptation.

So, with a nervous beginning—­“By-the-way, I wished to consult you about a personal matter.  Of course, answer or not, as you like.  Naturally, I understand the difficulties!”—­the plunge was taken, and the petitioner soon in full career.

After a first start—­a lifted brow of astonishment—­Ashe was uncomfortably silent—­till suddenly, in a pause of Darrell’s eloquence, his face changed, and with a burst of his old, careless freedom and affection, he flung an arm along Darrell’s shoulder, with an impetuous—­