“I shall be in the Opposition unless you get along faster.”

“That is what I want—­your face opposite me always, instead of bald-headed babblers.  Ah, if you knew how often, of late, it has floated before me in the House, reducing historic wrangles to the rocking of children’s boats in stormy ponds, accentuating the ponderous futility.”  He took her hand again, and a great joy filled him as he felt its gentle responsive pressure.

“Ponderous, perhaps,” she said, smiling faintly; “but not futile, Walter.”

“Futile, so far as I am concerned, dearest.  Ah, you are right.  Love is the only reality—­everything else a game played with counters.  What are our winnings?  A few cheers drowned in the roar that greets the winning jockey, a few leading articles, stale as yesterday’s newspaper.”

“But the good to the masses—­” she reminded him.

“Don’t mock me with my own phrases, darling.  The masses have done me more good than I can ever do them.  Next Monday, dear Amber Roan, we’ll try our honeymoon over again.”  And his lips sought hers.

She drew back.  “Yes, yes, after the Speech.  But now—­the Secret!”

“There will be no speech—­that is the secret.”

She drew away from him altogether.  “No speech!” she gasped.

“None save to your adorable ear—­and the moonlit waters.  Woodham has lent us his yacht—­”

“In the middle of a Cabinet Crisis?”

“Which concerns me less than anybody.”  And he beamed happily.

“Less than anybody?” she repeated.

“Yes—­since it is my resignation that makes the crisis.”

She fell back into a chair, white and trembling.  “You have resigned!”

“For ever.  And now, hey for the great round, wonderful world!  Don’t you hear our keel cutting the shimmering waters?”

“No,” she said savagely.  “I hear only Woodham’s mocking laughter!...  And it sounds like a goat bleating.”

“Darling!” he cried in amaze.

“I told you not to ‘darling’ me.  How dared you change our lives without a word of consultation?”

“Amber!” His voice was pained now.  “I prepared a surprise for the anniversary of our wedding.  One can’t consult about surprises.”

“Keep your quibbles for the House!  But perhaps there is no House, either.”

“Naturally.  I have done with it all.  I have written for the Chiltern Hundreds.”

“You are mad, Walter.  You must take it all back.”

“I can’t, Amber.  I have quarrelled hopelessly with the Party.  The Prime Minister will never forgive what I said at the Council to-day.  The luxury of speaking one’s mind is expensive.  I ought never to have joined any Party.  I am only fit to be Independent.”

“Independence leads nowhere.”  She rose angrily.  “And this is to be the end of your Career!  The Career you married me for!”

“I did wrong, Amber.  But before one finds the true God, one worships idols.”