"I like the softness of your gown, and I like the fur against your
throat and neck, and I like those buckles on your shoes, and the way you
do your hair."
She laughed, gracefully enough, yet with some return to that note of
uneasiness.
"You mustn't turn my head!" she protested. "You, fresh from London,
which they tell me is terribly gay just now! I want to understand just
what it means, your throwing in your lot with the Democrats. My uncle
says, for instance, that you have abandoned respectable politics to
become a Tower Hill pedagogue."
"Respectable politics," he replied, "if by that you mean the present
government of the country, have been in the wrong hands for so long that
people scarcely realise what is undoubtedly the fact--that the country
isn't being governed at all. A Government with an Opposition Party
almost as powerful as itself, all made up of separate parties which are
continually demanding sops, can scarcely progress very far, can it?"
"But the Democrats," she ventured, "are surely only one of these
isolated parties?"
"I have formed a different idea of their strength," he answered.
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