employ her in this election of yours. He seemed to dislike the
idea very much and wanted me to 'put my foot down.' (The phrase, I need
scarcely say, is his.) I explained to him that if I put my foot down
Lalage would immediately tread on it, which would hurt me and not even
trip her. Besides, I do not see why I should. If Lalage finds that kind
of thing amusing she ought to be allowed to enjoy it. You have my best
wishes for your success with the _turba Quiritium_. I am glad, very,
that it is you who have to face them, not I. I do not know anything in
the world that I should dislike more."

CHAPTER XII

Titherington took rooms for me in the better of the two hotels in
Ballygore and I went down there on the day on which he told me I ought
to go. I had as travelling companion a very pleasant man, the only other
occupant of the compartment in which I was. He was chatty and agreeable
at first and did not so much as mention the general election. After we
passed Drogheda his manner changed. He became silent, and when I spoke
to him answered snappily. His face got more and more flushed. At last he
asked me to shut the window beside me, which I did, although I wanted
to keep it open. I noticed that he was wriggling in a curious way
which reminded me of Hilda when her dress was fastened on with pins.
He fumbled about a good deal with one of his hands which he had thrust
inside his waistcoat. I watched him with great curiosity and discovered
at last that he was taking his temperature with a clinical thermometer.
Each time he took it he sighed and became more restless and miserable
looking than before.

On the 19th of February I developed a sharp attack of influenza.
Titherington flew to my side at once, which was the thing, of all
possible things, that I most wanted him not to do. He aggravated my
sufferings greatly by speaking as if my condition were my own fault. I
was too feverish to argue coherently. All I could do was to swear at him
occasionally. No man has any right to be as stupid as Titherington is.
It is utterly ridiculous to suppose that I should undergo racking pains
in my limbs, a violent headache and extreme general discomfort if
I could possibly avoid it. Titherington ought to have seen this for
himself. He did not. He scolded me and would, I am sure, have gone on
scolding me until I cried if what he took for a brilliant idea had not
suddenly occurred to him.

"It's an ill wind," he said cheerfully, "whic