"
"On the contrary," laughed Ashe. "Parham has shown a wonderful amount of
originality. If you and I are taken by surprise, what will the public
be? And they'll like him all the better--you'll see. He has shown
courage and gone for new men--that's what they'll say.
Vive Parham!
Well, good-bye. Now, please the Lord, we shall get off--and I may be
among the grouse this day week."
He stopped on his way out of the club to discuss the list with the men
coming in. He was conscious that some would have avoided him. But he had
no mind to be avoided, and his caustic, good-humored talk carried off
the situation. Presently he was walking homeward, swinging his stick
with the gayety of a school-boy expecting the holidays.
As he mounted St. James's Street a carriage descended. Ashe mechanically
took off his hat to the half-recognized face within, and as he did so
perceived the icy bow and triumphant eyes of Lady Parham.
He hurried along, fighting a curious sensation, as of a physical
bruising and beating. The streets were full of the news, and he was
stopped many times by mere acquaintances to talk of it. In Savile Row he
turned into a small literary club of which he was a member, and wrote a
letter to his mother.
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