the squalid truth.  There are many things I should like to speak about; my brain is feverishly active.  I must try to rest; another twenty-four hours of this strain, and the results would be serious.  In any case, wire to me—­yes or no.  If it is no, I shall say ’so be it,’ and begin at once to look out for some way of earning bread and cheese.  We shall be friends all the same.”

Mrs. Woolstan was at Eastbourne.  Having read Lashmar’s letter, she brooded for a few minutes, then betook herself to the post-office, and telegraphed “Come at once.”  A few hours later she received a telegram informing her that Lashmar would reach Eastbourne at eleven o’clock on the next morning.  At that hour, she waited in her lodgings on the sea-front.  A cab drove up; Lashmar was shown into the room.

He looked, indeed, much the worse for his agitations.  His hand was hot; he moved languidly, and seemed to be too tired to utter more than a few words.

“Are you alone?”

“Quite.  Len is down on the shore, and won’t be back till half-past one.”

“Would you—­mind—­if I lay down—­on the sofa?”

“Of course not,” replied Iris, regarding him anxiously.  “You’re not ill, I hope?”

He took her hand, and pressed it against his forehead, with the most melancholy of smiles.  Having dropped onto the couch, he beckoned Iris to take a chair beside him.

“What can I get for you?” she asked.  “You must have some refreshment—­”

“Sleep, sleep!” he moaned musically.  “If I could but sleep a little!—­But I have so much to say.  Don’t fuss; you know how I hate fuss.  No, no, I don’t want anything, I assure you.  But I haven’t slept for a week Give me your hand.  How glad I am to see you again!  So you still have faith in me?  You don’t despise me?”

“What nonsense!” said Iris, allowing him to hold her hand against his breast as he lay motionless, his eyes turned to the ceiling.  “You must try again, that’s all.  At Hollingford, it was evidently hopeless.”

“Yes.  I made a mistake.  If I could have stood as a Conservative, I should have carried all before me.  It was Lady Ogram’s quarrel with Robb which committed me to the other side.”

Iris was silent, panting a little as if she suppressed words which had risen to her lips.  He turned his head to look at her.

“Of course you understand that party names haven’t the least meaning for me.  By necessity, I wear a ticket, but it’s a matter of total indifference to me what name it bears.  My object has nothing to do with party politics.  But for Lady Ogram’s squabbles, I should at this moment be Member for Hollingford.”

“But would it be possible?” asked Iris, with a flutter, “to call yourself a Conservative next time?”

“I have been thinking about that.”  He spoke absently, his eyes still upwards.  “It is pretty certain that the Conservative side gives me more chance.  It enrages me to think how I should have triumphed at Hollingford!  I could have roused the place to such enthusiasm as it never knew!  The great mistake of my life—­but what choice had I?  Lady Ogram was fatal to me.”