“He could hardly be called that,” Mr. Crewe replied.  “In fact, I haven’t any what you might call ‘right-hand men.’  The large problems I have had to decide for myself.  As for Tooting, he’s well enough in his way; he understands the tricks of the politicians—­he’s played ’em, I guess.  He’s uneducated; he’s merely a worker.  You see,” he went on, “one great reason why I’ve been so successful is because I’ve been practical.  I’ve taken materials as I’ve found them.”

“I see,” answered Victoria, turning her head and gazing over the terrace at the sparkling reaches of the river.  She remembered the close of that wintry afternoon in Mr. Crewe’s house at the capital, and she was quite willing to do him exact justice, and to believe that he had forgotten it —­which, indeed, was the case.

“I want to say,” he continued, “that although I have known and—­ahem —­admired you for many years, Victoria, what has struck me most forcibly in your favour has been your open-mindedness—­especially on the great political questions this summer.  I have no idea how much you know about them, but one would naturally have expected you, on account of your father, to be prejudiced.  Sometime, when I have more leisure, I shall go into them, fully with you.  And in the meantime I’ll have my secretary send you the complete list of my speeches up to date, and I know you will read them carefully.”

“You are very kind, Humphrey,” she said.

Absorbed in the presentation of his subject (which chanced to be himself), Mr. Crewe did not observe that her lips were parted, and that there were little creases around her eyes.

“And sometime,” said Mr. Crewe, when all this has blown over a little, I shall have a talk with your father.  He undoubtedly understands that there is scarcely any question of my election.  He probably realizes, too, that he has been in the—­wrong, and that railroad domination must cease—­he has already made several concessions, as you know.  I wish you would tell him from me that when I am governor, I shall make it a point to discuss the whole matter with him, and that he will find in me no foe of corporations.  Justice is what I stand for.  Temperamentally, I am too conservative, I am too much of a business man, to tamper with vested interests.”

“I will tell him, Humphrey,” said Victoria.

Mr. Crewe coughed, and looked at his watch once, more.  “And now, having made that clear,” he said, “and having only a quarter of an hour before I have to leave to keep an appointment, I am going to take up another subject.  And I ask you to believe it is not done lightly, or without due consideration, but as the result of some years of thought.”

Victoria turned to him seriously—­and yet the creases were still around her eyes.

“I can well believe it, Humphrey,” she answered.  “But—­have you time?”

“Yes,” he said, “I have learned the value of minutes.”

“But not of hours, perhaps,” she replied.