"Capital!" he cried. "Then I know now why I found a copy in the village here. You lent it to a man called Hurd?"
"Whose wife worships you?--whose good angel you have been? Do I know something about you, or do I not? Well, now, are you satisfied with that paper? Can you suggest to me means of improving it? It wants some fresh blood, I think--I must find it? I bought the thing last year, in a moribund condition, with the old staff. Oh! we will certainly take counsel together about it--most certainly! But first--I have been boasting of knowing something about you--but I should like to ask--do you know anything about me?"
Both laughed. Then Marcella tried to be serious.
"Well--I--I believe--you have some land?"
"Eight!" he nodded--"I am a Lincolnshire landowner. I have about five thousand acres--enough to be tolerably poor on--and enough to play tricks with. I have a co-operative farm, for instance. At present I have lent them a goodish sum of money--and remitted them their first half-year's rent. Not so far a paying speculation. But it will do--some day. Meanwhile the estate wants money--and my plans and I want money--badly. I propose to make the _Labour Clarion_ pay--if I can. That will give me more time for speaking and organising, for what concerns _us_--as Venturists--than the Bar."
"The Bar?" she said, a little mystified, but following every word with a fascinated attention.
"I made myself a barrister three years ago, to please my mother. She thought I should do better in Parliament--if ever I got in. Did you ever hear of my mother?"
There was no escaping these frank, smiling questions.
"Well, ask Lord Maxwell," he said, laughing. "He and she came across each other once or twice, when he was Home Secretary years ago, and she was wild about some woman's grievance or other. She always maintains that she got the better of him--no doubt he was left with a different impression. Well--my mother--most people thought her mad--perhaps she was--but then somehow--I loved her!"
He was still smiling, but at the last words a charming vibration crept into the words, and his eyes sought her with a young open demand for sympathy.
"Is that so rare?" she asked him, half laughing--instinctively defending her own feeling lest it should be snatched from her by any make-believe.