He
is so various. Look at it dispassionately, and you will see much to
admire in his skill. He pleases, he amuses, he startles, he baffles, he
mystifies."
The Duchess made an impatient exclamation. "The silly newspapers call him
a 'remarkable man, a personality.' Now, believe me, Windlehurst, he will
overreach himself one of these days, and he'll come down like a stick."
"There you are on solid ground. He thinks that Fate is with him, and
that, in taking risks, he is infallible. But the best system breaks at
political roulette sooner or later. You have got to work for something
outside yourself, something that is bigger than the game, or the end is
sickening."
"Eglington hasn't far to go, if that's the truth."
"Well, well, when it comes, we must help him--we must help him up again."
The Duchess nervously adjusted her wig, with ludicrously tiny fingers for
one so ample, and said petulantly: "You are incomprehensible. He has been
a traitor to you and to your party, he has thrown mud at you, he has
played with principles as my terrier plays with his rubber ball, and yet
you'll run and pick him up when he falls, and--"
"'And kiss the spot to make it well,'" he laughed softly, then added with
a sigh: "Able men in public life are few; 'far too few, for half our
tasks; we can spare not one.
Pages:
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333