er we had come so far and taken so
much trouble!

She constituted herself the dragoman of our political travels. In hotels
she was serenely resolute for the quietest and the best, she rejected
all their proposals for meals and substituted a severely nourishing
dietary of her own, and even in private houses she astonished me by her
tranquil insistence upon special comforts and sustenance. I can see her
face now as it would confront a hostess, a little intent, but sweetly
resolute and assured.

Since our marriage she had read a number of political memoirs, and she
had been particularly impressed by the career of Mrs. Gladstone. I don't
think it occurred to her to compare and contrast my quality with that
of Mrs. Gladstone's husband. I suspect her of a deliberate intention
of achieving parallel results by parallel methods. I was to be
Gladstonised. Gladstone it appeared used to lubricate his speeches with
a mixture--if my memory serves me right--of egg beaten up in sherry,
and Margaret was very anxious I should take a leaf from that celebrated
book. She wanted, I know, to hold the glass in her hand while I was
speaking.

But here I was firm. "No," I said, very decisively, "simply I won't
stand that. It's a matter of conscience. I shouldn't feel--democratic.
I'll take my chance of the common water in the carafe on the chairman's
table."

"I DO wish you wouldn't," she said, distressed.

It was absurd to feel irritated; it was so admirable of her, a little
childish, infinitely womanly and devoted and fine--and I see now how
pathetic. But I could not afford to succumb to her. I wanted to follow
my own leading, to see things clearly, and this reassuring pose of a
high destiny, of an almost terribly efficient pursuit of a fixed end
when as a matter of fact I had a very doubtful end and an aim as yet by
no means fixed, was all too seductive for dalliance....

4

And into all these things with the manner of a trifling and casual
incident comes the figure of Isabel Rivers. My first impressions of
her were of a rather ugly and ungainly, extraordinarily interesting
schoolgirl with a beautiful quick flush under her warm brown skin, who
said and did amusing and surprising things. When first I saw her she
was riding a very old bicycle downhill with her feet on the fork of the
frame--it seemed to me to the public danger, but afterwards I came to
understand the quality of her nerve better--and on the third occasion
she was