"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." "I've been considering it. How was it suggested to you?" Constance asked the question so directly, and with so keen a look, that she all but disconcerted the philosopher. "Oh, it grew out of my reading and observation grew bit by bit--no armed Pallas leaping to sudden life--" "You have worked it out pretty thoroughly." "In outline, yes." Dyce read the newspapers, and walked a little in the garden. Punctually at eleven, Lady Ogram descended. The carriage was at the door. This stately drive, alone with the autocrat of Rivenoak, animated the young man. He felt that the days of his insignificance were over, that his career--the career so often talked about--had really begun. A delightful surprise gave piquancy to his sensations; had he cared to tell himself the truth, he would have known that, whatever his self-esteem, he had never quite believed in the brilliant future of which he liked to dream. It is one thing to merit advancement, quite another to secure it. Yet here he was, driving with a great lady, his friend, his admirer; driving towards the excitement of political contest, perhaps towards a seat in Parliament, and who could say what subsequent distinctions. Lady Ogram was not the woman to aid half-heartedly where her feelings were interested. Pretty surely he could count upon large support, so long as he did not disappoint his benefactress. For the present he had no anxieties--thanks to another woman, of whom, in truth, he thought scarcely once in twenty-four hours. He lived at ease; his faculties were expanding under this genial sunshine of prosperity. Even in aspect he was a man of more importance than a few weeks ago; his cheeks had coloured, his eyes rested with a new dignity on all they saw. They returned, and as Lady Ogram was entering the hall, a servant made a respectful announcement. "Mr. Kerchever is here, my lady." "Mr. Kerchever? Indeed?"