“Is he so much older then?  He seemed to me”——­

“Six years older—­about five-and-thirty.  He’s going down to Polterham on Saturday, and I think I shall go with him.”

“Go with him?  For long?”

“A week, I think.  I want to see my brother-in-law.  You won’t mind being left alone?”

“No; I shall do my best to keep in good spirits.”

“I’ll get you a batch of new books.  I may as well tell you, Liversedge has been persuaded to stand as Liberal candidate for Polterham at the next election.  It surprised me rather; I shouldn’t have thought he was the kind of fellow to go in for politics.  It always seemed to be as little in his line as it is in mine.”

“And do you wish to advise him against it?”

“Oh no; there’s no harm in it.  I suppose Beaconsfield and crew have roused him.  I confess I should enjoy helping to kick them into space.  No, I just want to talk it over with him.  And I owe them a visit; they took it rather ill that I couldn’t go with them to Ireland.”

Lilian sat with bent head.  Casting a quick glance at her, Quarrier talked on in a cheerful strain.

“I’m afraid he isn’t likely to get in.  The present member is an old fogey called Welwyn-Baker; a fat-headed Tory; this is his third Parliament.  They think he’s going to set up his son next time—­a fool, no doubt, but I have no knowledge of him.  I’m afraid Liversedge isn’t the man to stir enthusiasm.”

“But is there any one to be made enthusiastic on that side?” asked Lilian.

“Well, it’s a town that has changed a good deal of late years.  It used to be only an agricultural market, but about twenty years ago a man started a blanket factory, and since then several other industries have shot up.  There’s a huge sugar-refinery, and a place where they make jams.  That kind of thing, you know, affects the spirit of a place.  Manufacturers are generally go-ahead people, and mill-hands don’t support high Tory doctrine.  It’ll be interesting to see how they muster.  If Liversedge knows how to go to work”—­he broke into laughter.  “Suppose, when the time comes, I go down and harangue the mob in his favour?”

Lilian smiled and shook her head.

“I’m afraid you would be calling them ‘the mob’ to their faces.”

“Well, why not?  I dare say I should do more that way than by talking fudge about the glorious and enlightened people.  ’Look here, you blockheads!’ I should shout, ’can’t you see on which side your interests lie?  Are you going to let England be thrown into war and taxes just to please a theatrical Jew and the howling riff-raff of London?’ I tell you what, Lily, it seems to me I could make a rattling good speech if I gave my mind to it.  Don’t you think so?”

“There’s nothing you couldn’t do,” she answered, with soft fervour, fixing her eyes upon him.

“And yet I do nothing—­isn’t that what you would like to add?”