His eyes followed the woman in black and silver until she had passed out of sight.  The family likeness was there, appealing to him curiously, tugging at his heartstrings.  His artificial surroundings slipped easily away.  He was back on the moors, he felt a sniff of the strong wind, the wholesome exaltation of the empty places.  A more wonderful memory still was seeping in upon him.  His companion intervened chillingly.

“One never sees your wife, nowadays, Mr. Tallente.”

“My wife is in America.” he answered mechanically.  “She has gone there to stay with some relatives.”

“She is interested in politics?”

“Not in the least.”

Mrs. Van Fosdyke welcomed a newcomer with a gracious little smile and Tallente rose to his feet.  Horlock had left the group in the centre of the room and was making his way towards them.

“At least we can talk here,” he said, shaking hands with Tallente, “without any suggestion of a conspiracy.  The old gang, you know,” he went on, addressing his hostess, “simply close around me when I try to have a word with Tallente.  They are afraid of some marvellous combination which is going to shut them out.”

“Lethbridge is the only one of them here to-night,” She observed, “and he is probably in one of the rooms where they are serving things.  Now I must go back to my guests.  If I see him, I’ll head him off.”

She strolled away.  The Prime Minister sank back upon a couch.  His air of well-bred content with himself and life fell away from him the moment his hostess was out of sight.

“Tallente,” he said, “I suppose you mean to break us?”

“I thought we’d been rather friendly,” was the quiet reply.  “We’ve been letting you have your own way for nearly a month.”

“That is simply because we are on work which we are tackling practically in the fashion you dictated,” Horlock pointed out.  “When we have finished this Irish business, what are you going to do?”

“I am not the leader of the party,” Tallente reminded him.

“From a parliamentary point of view you are,” was the impatient protest.  “Dartrey is a dreamer.  He might even have dreamed away his opportunities if you hadn’t come along.  Miller would never have handled the House as you have.  Miller was made to create factions.  You were made to coalesce, to smooth over difficulties, to bring men of opposite points of view into the same camp.  You are a genius at it, Tallente.  Six months ago I was only afraid of the Democrats.  Now I dread them.  Shall I tell you what it is that worries me most?”

“If you think it wise.”

“Your absence of programme.  Why don’t you say what you want to do—­give us some idea of how far you are going to carry your tenets?  Are we to have the anarchy of Bolshevists or the socialism of Marx,—­a red flag republic or a classical dictatorship?”

“We are not out for anarchy, at all events,” Tallente assured him, “nor for revolutions in the ordinary sense of the word.”