“At the Metropole.  Mr. Bullsom is there also.”

“I will call,” Mr. Henslow promised, “at three o’clock, if that is convenient.”

Brooks passed out across the great courtyard and through the gates.  He had gone to his interview with Henslow in a somewhat depressed state of mind, and its result had not been enlivening.  Were all politics like this?  Was the greatest of causes, the cause of the people, to be tossed about from one to the other, a joke with some, a juggling ball with others, never to be dealt with firmly and wisely by the brains and generosity of the Empire?  He looked back at the Houses of Parliament, with their myriad lights, their dark, impressive outline.  And for a moment the depression passed away.  He thought of the freedom which had been won within those walls, of the gigantic struggles, the endless, restless journeying onward towards the truths, the great truths of the world.  All politicians were not as this man Henslow.  There were others, more strenuous, more single-hearted.  He himself—­and his heart beat at the thought—­why should he not take his place there?  The thought fascinated him,—­every word of Lord Arranmore’s letter which he had recently received, seemed to stand out before him.  His feet fell more blithely upon the pavement, he carried himself with a different air.  Here were ample means to fill his life,—­means by which he could crush out that sweet but unhappy tangle of memories which somehow or other had stolen the flavour out of life for the last few weeks.

At the hotel he glanced at the clock.  It was just eight, and he was to accompany the Bullsoms to the theatre.  He met them in the hall, and Selina looked with reproach at his morning clothes.  She was wearing a new swansdown theatre cloak, with a collar which she had turned up round her face like a frame.  She was convinced that she had never looked so well in her life.

“Mr. Brooks, how naughty of you,” she exclaimed, shaking her head in mock reproach.  “Why, the play begins at 8:15, and it is eight o’clock already.  Have you had dinner?”

“Oh, I can manage with something in my room while I change,” he answered cheerily.  “I’m going to take you all out to supper after the theatre, you know.  Don’t wait for me—­I’ll come on.  His Majesty’s, isn’t it?”

“I’ll keep your seat,” Selina promised him, lowering her voice.  “That is, if you are very good and come before it is half over.  Do you know that we met a friend of yours, and he lent us his carriage, and I think he’s charming.”

Brooks looked surprised.  He glanced at Mary, and saw a look in her face which came as a revelation to him.

“You don’t mean—­”

“Lord Arranmore!” Selina declared, triumphantly.  “He was so nice, he wouldn’t let us come home in a cab.  He positively made us take his own carriage.”

Mr. Bullsom came hurrying up.

“Cab waiting,” he announced.  “Come on, girls.”