“I see your very apt allegory. Jack, if you don’t want me to urge you to go in heart and soul for this business, you made a grave error in that last remark of yours. Jack, the man who could turn the topographical condition of a place into a forcible argument and a picturesque one into the bargain, is the man to convince a constituency that they badly want him to represent them in Parliament.” “You’re hustling me, Priscilla. I repeat that you’re hustling me, and I’m beginning to be mortally afraid of you.” “You needn’t be afraid of me. I’m not so stupid as to want to hustle you. I’m not such an idiot as to start life with you by trying on a system of nagging. In my eyes you’ll always be the man with the _bâton_, and I’ll always be ready to play any tune that you beat time to. If I urge you all that I can to do something, and you refuse to do it, don’t fancy for a moment that I’ll dissolve in tears or get a hump or say, ‘You wouldn’t take my advice,’ when you come to grief through having your own way. I promise you that I’ll do none of these things. You’re the man and I’m your helpmeet. Heaven forbid that I should ever try to make my opinions take the place of yours; but heaven forbid also, that, having opinions, I should keep them to myself.” “Amen to that, say I.” “All that I can do is to lay them at your feet, Jack, and--no, that’s too humble altogether: I won’t lay them at your feet, I’ll try to make them look their best in front of you, and if you like them you can adopt them as your own. That’s all that I can do. You’ll find that I know my place, dear.” “I see that you do; you know it a deal better than you know mine, if you fancy that my place is on a leather bench in the House of Commons.” “Maybe you’re right, Jack; but what an experience to one is an election campaign! I’ve been longing all my life to be so placed that I should be able to go through an election fight--not a hollow thing, mind you, but a splendid tingling close fight. That’s the thing that develops whatever character one may have--whatever strength one may have within one. The only way by which a man can be made a man of is by a fight.” He looked at her and laughed. “And you’re determined to make a man of me, are you?” he said; “by a fight--an election fight? Well, that’s all very fine; but supposing I should win, where would we be then?” “In the House of Commons, ready to carry the fight into the enemy’s country; and that’s where you’ll be as sure as you take off your coat--and you _will_ take off your coat, Jack.” “And my waistcoat, if necessary. And what am I to fight for? I’ve no definite opinions about anything in politics.” “You begin by defining your opinions, and you’ll very soon find out how definite they are. But don’t you bother about opinions; the fight’s the thing that matters. Any excuse for a fight is valid.”