d and a stranger. He was introduced
to Mrs Cartmell.

"You can't very well shake hands," she observed. "We're going in.
Suppose I take the balls."

"Oh, please don't bother," said Martin.

But Mrs Cartmell grasped the racket and took it from him without
dropping any of the balls.

"Thanks very much," Martin remarked. "Do you play tennis?"

"In a feeble kind of way. I'm out of practice too."

"We'll put that all right," said Mrs Berrisford.

"The court is quite dry, up to tea-time," added Martin eagerly. "The
dew is very heavy later on and it gets dark soon, but it's all right if
you play early."

Martin's keenness amused Mrs Cartmell. "Of course I should love to
play," she said.

To his own astonishment Martin felt greatly relieved.

Godfrey Cartmell was prospective Radical candidate for the division.
To pass away the time he had been called to the Bar, but he never had
any need or any inclination to practise. At Oxford he had, like most
people, been President of the Liberal Club, and his faith was nebulous
but genuine. He had had the good sense to marry a capable woman who
carried him off maternally and saw to it that he didn't hang about any
longer, but made his terms with the Whips at once. Viola Cartmell was
neither egoistic nor vulgar, but she combined ambition with practical
driving power, and she had eaten the bread of obscurity far longer than
she liked. Godfrey had chances, but she saw that he had picked up
during his first-class education a capacity for doing nothing in a very
charming manner. She had already made him a candidate: she intended to
make him a success.

The Cartmells were close friends of the Berrisfords, and it was through
the connection that Godfrey had been introduced to the local Liberal
Association. Now they had come down to look round: the seat was held
by a Tory but had sound Radical traditions, so that a change was not
impossible. Naturally Godfrey Cartmell spent much of his time with the
agent: his wife thought it more tactful not to be too conspicuous at
first, for she had resolved that, when the time arrived, she was to
direct the campaign. So she had time to play tennis and go for walks
and make, quite unwittingly, a conquest.

It was certainly not with any feminine charms that Viola Cartmell won
Martin's adoration: rather it was by reason of her difference from the
average girl who came to play tennis or to visit the Berrisfords.
There was no need to tal