‘You may be right, Captain Beauchamp.  Good day, sir.’

Palmet strode after Beauchamp into the street.

‘Why did you set me bowing to that old boy?’ he asked.

‘Why did you talk about women?’ was the rejoinder.

‘Oh, aha!’ Palmet sang to himself.  ’You’re a Romfrey, Beauchamp.  A blow for a blow!  But I only said what would strike every fellow first off.  It is the place; the very place.  Pastry-cooks’ shops won’t stand comparison with it.  Don’t tell me you ’re the man not to see how much a woman prefers to be under the wing of science and literature, in a good-sized, well-warmed room, with a book, instead of making believe, with a red face, over a tart.’

He received a smart lecture from Beauchamp, and began to think he had enough of canvassing.  But he was not suffered to escape.  For his instruction, for his positive and extreme good, Beauchamp determined that the heir to an earldom should have a day’s lesson.  We will hope there was no intention to punish him for having frozen the genial current of Mr. Tomlinson’s vote and interest; and it may be that he clung to one who had, as he imagined, seen Renee.  Accompanied by a Mr. Oggler, a tradesman of the town, on the Liberal committee, dressed in a pea-jacket and proudly nautical, they applied for the vote, and found it oftener than beauty.  Palmet contrasted his repeated disappointments with the scoring of two, three, four and more in the candidate’s list, and informed him that he would certainly get the Election.  ‘I think you’re sure of it,’ he said.  ‘There’s not a pretty woman to be seen; not one.’

One came up to them, the sight of whom counselled Lord Palmet to reconsider his verdict.  She was addressed by Beauchamp as Miss Denham, and soon passed on.

Palmet was guilty of staring at her, and of lingering behind the others for a last look at her.

They were on the steps of a voter’s house, calmly enduring a rebuff from him in person, when Palmet returned to them, exclaiming effusively, ’What luck you have, Beauchamp!’ He stopped till the applicants descended the steps, with the voice of the voter ringing contempt as well as refusal in their ears; then continued:  ’You introduced me neck and heels to that undertakerly old Tomlinson, of Wingham’s Institute; you might have given me a chance with that Miss—­Miss Denham, was it?  She has a bit of a style!’

‘She has a head,’ said Beauchamp.

’A girl like that may have what she likes.  I don’t care what she has—­there’s woman in her.  You might take her for a younger sister of Mrs. Wardour-Devereux.  Who ’s the uncle she speaks of?  She ought not to be allowed to walk out by herself.’

‘She can take care of herself,’ said Beauchamp.

Palmet denied it.  ’No woman can.  Upon my honour, it’s a shame that she should be out alone.  What are her people?  I’ll run—­from you, you know—­and see her safe home.  There’s such an infernal lot of fellows about; and a girl simply bewitching and unprotected!  I ought to be after her.’