n
from it, and a lady. The candidate was of a short and slight build; a
pencil--line of black moustache crossed a pallid and indecisive face, and
he seemed a year or two more than thirty. The lady looked the younger,
and was certainly the taller of the two. Drake was impressed by her face,
which bore womanly gentleness, stamped on features of a marked
intellectuality. The couple disappeared into the hall, and appeared again
in a large room with big windows upon the first floor. From where he
stood Drake could see every corner of the room. Lord and Lady Cranston,
the land-lord informed him, were staying at the 'Yellow Boar.' The two
candidates overlooked each other.

In this street, morning and evening, they met for a moment or two, and
took a breath of friendly intercourse. Drake was introduced to Lady
Cranston, but she would have none of the truce. To her he was the enemy,
and to be treated as such consistently, with a heart-and-soul hostility,
until he confessed himself beaten. Drake liked her all the better for her
attitude. Meanwhile he made headway in the constituency. He was in
earnest, with a big theme to descant upon--the responsibility of the
constituency to the empire. His fervour brought it home to his audiences
as a fact; he set the recognition of that responsibility forwards as the
prime duty of the citizen, sneering at the parochial notion of politics.
Mr. Burl shook his head over Drake's method of fighting the battle, and
hinted more than once at the necessity of that lecture upon morals. Drake
not only refused to reconsider it, but flatly forbade Mr. Burl to allude
to the subject in any speech which he might make. Burl shrugged his
shoulders and confided his doubts to Captain Le Mesurier. Said the
Captain, 'I think he's wise; a speech might offend. What's wanted is an
epigram--a good stinging epigram. We could set it about, and, if it's
sharp enough, no need to fear it won't travel.' He paused dubiously.
'After all, though, it's a bit unfair on Cranston. Hang it, I've been a
married man myself,' and he chuckled in unregenerate enjoyment. 'However,
the seat's got to be won. Let's think of an epigram,' and he scratched
his head and slapped his thigh. It was the Captain's way of thinking. The
satisfactory epigram would not emerge. He could fashion nothing better as
a description of Cranston than, 'A refreshment-room sandwich; two great
chunks of sin and a little slice of repentance between.' Mr. Burl
condem