“You certainly have.  And it reminds me that I may seem very ungrateful; I have hardly said ‘thank you.’  Shake hands, and believe that I am not ungrateful.”

She hesitated.  Not till the hand had been extended to her for an appreciable moment, did she give her own.  In doing so, she wore a hard smile.

“So, this evening,” went on Dyce, “I meet my supporters.  Lady Ogram gave me an account of them yesterday.  Tell me what you think.  May I be myself with these people?  Or must I talk twaddle.  I dislike twaddle, as you know, but I don’t want to spoil my chances.  You understand how I look at this business?  My object in life is to gain influence, that I may spread my views.  Parliament, I take it, is the best means.  Considering the nature of the average elector, I don’t think one need worry about the method one pursues to get elected.  I won’t tell lies; that goes against the grain with me.  But I must be practical.”

Constance watched him, and seemed to weigh his remarks.

“As for twaddle,” she said, “I shouldn’t advise much of it in Mrs. Toplady’s hearing.”

“You are right.  That would never do.  I suppose that woman may be of real use to me?”

“Yes, I think so,” replied Constance, seriously.  “You are of course aware that a man doesn’t become parliamentary candidate by just walking into a town and saying—­’Behold me!  Your votes!’ There is such a thing as party organisation.”

Dyce looked at her with involuntary respect.  He reminded himself that “twaddle” was as little likely to have weight with Miss Bride as with Mrs. Toplady.

“She knows political people?” he asked.

“She knows everybody—­or can know.  I confess I don’t understand why.  In any case, it’ll be well for yon to have her good word.  Lady Ogram can do a good deal, here, but I’m not sure that she could make your acceptance by the Liberals a certain thing.”

“Of course I have thought of that,” said Dyce.  Then, fearing he had spoken in too off-hand a way, he added graciously, “I needn’t say that I regard your advice as valuable.  I shall often ask for it.”

Constance was mute.

“I suppose I may take it for granted that you wish for my success?”

“To be sure.  I wish for it because Lady Ogram does.”

Dyce felt inclined to object to this, but Constance’s face did not invite to further talk on the point.

“At all events,” he continued, “it seems no other candidate has been spoken of.  The party isn’t sanguine; they look upon Robb as an unassailable; sedet in aeter-numque sedebit.  But we shall see about it.  Presently I should like to talk over practical details with you.  I suppose I call myself Unionist?  These questions of day-to-day politics, how paltry they are!  Strange that people can get excited about them.  I shall have to look on it as a game, and amuse myself for certain hours of the day—­a relaxation from thought and work.  You haven’t told me, by the bye, what you think of my bio-sociological system.”