Hesketh had become tolerable only
when other things were equal. Lorne had not seen him
since the night of his election, when his felicitations
had seemed to stand for very little one way or another.
His manner now was more important charged with other
considerations. Lorne waited on the word, uncomfortably
putting off the necessity of coming out with his misfortune.
"I haven't come across you, Murchison, but you've had my
sympathy, I needn't say, all this time. A man can't go
into politics with gloves on, there's no doubt about
that. Though mind you, I never for a moment believed that
you let yourself in personally. I mean, I've held you
all through, above the faintest suspicion."
"Have you?" said Lorne. "Well, I suppose I ought to be
grateful."
"Oh, I have--I assure you! But give me a disputed election
for the revelation of a rotten state of things--eh?"
"It does show up pretty low, doesn't it?"
"However, upon my word, I don't know whether it's any
better in England. At bottom we've got a lower class to
deal with, you know. I'm beginning to have a great respect
for the electorate of this country, Murchison--not
necessarily the methods, but the rank and file of the
people. They know what they want, and they're going to
have it."
"Yes," said Lorne, "I guess they are.
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