Ashe casually began to talk; the
trickle became a stream, and presently he was holding forth with an
impetuosity, a knowledge, a matured and careful judgment that fairly
amazed the man beside him.
The long road, bordered by the flat fen meadows, the wide silver sky,
the gently lengthening day, all passed unnoticed. The journalist found
himself in the grip of a
mind--strong, active, rich. He gave himself
up with docility, yet with a growing astonishment, and when they stood
once more on the steps of the house he said to his companion:
"You must have followed these matters for years. Why have you never
spoken in the House, or written anything?"
Ashe's aspect changed at once.
"What would have been the good?" he said, with his easy smile. "The
fellows who didn't know wouldn't have believed me; and the fellows who
knew didn't want telling."
A shade of impatience showed in Kershaw's aspect.
"I thought," he said, "ours was government by discussion."
Ashe laughed, and, turning on the steps, he pointed to the splendid
gardens and finely wooded park.
"Or government by country-houses--which? If you support us in this--as I
gather you will--this walk will have been worth a debate--now won't it?"
The flattered journalist smiled, and they entered the house.
Pages:
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124