Ann, however, produced it—­which, considering that Mr. Bullsom had carefully placed it there a few hours ago, was not extraordinary—­and Brooks sipped the wine with inward tremors, justified by the result.

“I suppose, Mr. Brooks,” Selina remarked, turning towards him in an engaging fashion, “that you are a great politician.  I see your name so much in the papers.”

Brooks smiled.

“My political career,” he answered, “dates from yesterday morning.  I am taking Mr. Morrison’s place, you know, as agent for Mr. Henslow.  I have never done anything of the sort before, and I have scarcely any claims to be considered a politician at all.”

“A very lucky change for us, Brooks,” Mr. Bullsom declared, with the burly familiarity which he considered justified by his position as chairman of the Radical committee.  “Poor Morrison was past the job.  It was partly through his muddling that we lost the seat at the last election.  I’d made up my mind to have a change this time, and so I told ’em.”

Brooks was tired of politics, and he looked across the table.  This pale girl with the tired eyes and self-contained manner interested him.  The difference, too, between her and the rest of the family was puzzling.

“I believe, Miss Scott,” he said, “that I met you at the Stuarts’ dance.”

“I was there,” she admitted.  “I don’t think I danced with you, but we had supper at the same table.”

“I remember it perfectly,” he said.  “Wasn’t it supposed to be a very good dance?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“I believe so,” she answered.  “There was the usual fault—­too many girls.  But it was very pretty to watch.”

“You do not care for dancing, yourself, perhaps?” he hazarded.

“Indeed I do,” she declared.  “But I knew scarcely any one there.  I see a good deal of Kate sometimes, but the others I scarcely know at all.”

“You were in the same position as I was, then,” he answered, smiling.

“Oh, you—­you are different,” she remarked.  “I mean that you are a man, and at a dance that means everything.  That is why I rather dislike dances.  We are too dependent upon you.  If you would only let us dance alone.”

Selina smiled in a superior manner.  She would have given a good deal to have been invited to the dance in question, but that was a matter which she did not think it worth while to mention.

“My dear Mary!” she said, “what an idea.  I am quite sure that when you go out with us you need never have any difficulty about partners.”

“Our programmes for the Liberal Club Dance and the County Cricket Ball were full before we had been in the room five minutes,” Louise interposed.

Mary smiled inwardly, but said nothing, and Brooks was quite sure then that she was different.  He realized too that her teeth were perfect, and her complexion, notwithstanding its pallor, was faultless.  She would have been strikingly good-looking but for her mouth, and that—­was it a discontented or a supercilious curl?  At any rate it disappeared when she smiled.