"Put my saucepan on the fire, please," she begged. "You will find some
whisky and soda on the sideboard there. Parkins evidently thinks that I
ought to have a male escort when I come home late."
"I don't want whisky and soda, Jane," he cried passionately. "I want
you!"
She rested her hand upon his shoulder.
"And am I not yours, dear," she asked,--"foolishly, unwisely perhaps,
but certainly yours?--They were all talking about you to-night at dinner
and I was so proud," she went on, a little feverishly. "Our host was
almost eloquent. He said that Democracy led by you, instead of proving
a curse, might be the salvation of the country, because you have
political insight and imperialistic ideas. It is those terrible people
who would make a parish council of Parliament from whom one has most to
fear."
Tallente made no reply. He was standing on the hearth rug, a few feet
away from her, watching as she stirred her milk, watching the curve of
her body, the grace of her long, smoothly shining arms. And beyond
these things he strove to read what was at the back of her mind.
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