"Peter," said Marbury, as they were leaving the platform, "you will hear that speech of mine forty times, in forty moods and tenses, during the next ten days. Please don't imagine that I enjoy it. But you saw the agent. He would not let me escape, even for twenty-four hours. He knows how important it is." Over a late supper at the hotel, Peter shared with Marbury his impressions of the day. "Frankly," he said, "I admired you most of the time." "Beginning to think better of politics?" "Politics don't seem to count much in this election." "Platform politics don't. The people here are only just discovering them. I hear, by the way, that the Government Whips have arranged a debauch for next week. They're sending down Wenderby. My agent, who despises me, is frightened." "Your agent ought to be jolly well pleased with you," said Peter indignantly. "He is not," Marbury asserted. "He thinks I'm too refined. He wants me to tell the people I'm going to inherit seventy thousand acres. He tells me not to cut marble with a razor. He wants it coarse." They slept at Sandhaven, working back to Highbury on the following day. It was comparatively an easy journey, and they were back at Highbury in time for dinner. Peter drifted shyly towards Lady Mary, and again was next to her. "This is lucky," she said as they sat down. "You can tell me about Antony's meetings." "I'm afraid I don't know the difference between a bad meeting and a good one," said Peter. "But Antony was pleased." "Have you been speaking?" she asked. "No." "Why not?" "What could I say?" objected Peter. "Antony tells me you are quite an orator." "But this is different," Peter pleaded. "Why is it different?" "Well, you see, I can talk when I really believe in things and have a lot to say." "Don't you believe in Antony?" asked Lady Mary. She was determined not to let him off. "Yes," Peter admitted. "Then why not talk about him?" "But what about politics?" Peter objected. "Haven't you any politics?" "They all seem to be going," said Peter dismally. "Things aren't so simple as I thought." "One thing is simple enough," said Lady Mary, looking serenely at Peter. "Antony is a better man for Sandhaven than Mr. Jordan." "I'm sure he is," Peter gladly agreed. "Very well then. You must speak for Antony." "Why do you insist?" asked Peter, hoping for a compliment. "Because," said Lady Mary, resolved to disappoint him, "it will be good for Antony. It doesn't matter what you say. Our farmers will look at your honest face. Then they will measure your strong back. Then they will believe you are as good a man as themselves, especially if you halt a little in your speech. Antony is too fluent; and he is not sufficiently robust." XXVIII