and
they had sat for a long time in silence. She decided not to tell him
about Phillips, just yet. He knew of him only from the Tory newspapers
and would form a wrong idea. She would bring them together and leave
Phillips to make his own way. He would like Phillips when he knew him,
she felt sure. He, too, was a people's man. The torch passed down to
him from his old Ironside ancestors, it still glowed. More than once she
had seen it leap to flame. In congenial atmosphere, it would burn clear
and steadfast. It occurred to her what a delightful solution of her
problem, if later on her father could be persuaded to leave Arthur in
charge of the works, and come to live with her in London. There was a
fine block of flats near Chelsea Church with long views up and down the
river. How happy they could be there; the drawing-room in the Adams
style with wine-coloured curtains! He was a father any young woman could
be proud to take about. Unconsciously she gave his hand an impulsive
squeeze. They lunched at an old inn upon the moors; and the landlady,
judging from his shy, attentive ways, had begun by addressing her as
Madame.

"You grow wonderfully like your mother," he told her that evening at
dinner. "There used to be something missing. But I don't feel that,
now."

She wrote to Phillips to meet her, if possible, at Euston. There were
things she wanted to talk to him about. There was the question whether
she should go on writing for Carleton, or break with him at once. Also
one or two points that were worrying her in connection with tariff
reform. He was waiting for her on the platform. It appeared he, too,
had much to say. He wanted her advice concerning his next speech. He
had not dined and suggested supper. They could not walk about the
streets. Likely enough, it was only her imagination, but it seemed to
her that people in the restaurant had recognized him, and were whispering
to one another: he was bound to be well known. Likewise her own
appearance, she felt, was against them as regarded their desire to avoid
observation. She would have to take to those mousey colours that did not
suit her, and wear a veil. She hated the idea of a veil. It came from
the East and belonged there. Besides, what would be the use? Unless he
wore one too. "Who is the veiled woman that Phillips goes about with?"
That is what they would ask. It was going to be very awkward, the whole
thing. Viewed from the dis