"I read the speech after I got your letter," she said. "I'm sorry you don't like it, but Alexander must consider the practical aspect of the matter. You won't do your cause any good by urging it out of season." "In season and out of season; that's the only way." "You might be an Irish member," said May, smiling. Dick was too much in earnest to be diverted to mirth. The presence of Miss Quisante still seemed to make him a little uncomfortable, but the old lady did not move. May gave her no hint, and he was too full of his subject to hold his tongue. "I want you to speak to him about it," he went on. "To urge him to do what he thinks a mistake?" Dick grew a little hot. "To urge him not to go back on the cause and on--on his friends, and almost to laugh at them for----" He paused and looked at May; she was smiling steadily. He did not end quite as bluntly as he had meant. "I think that he has, unconsciously no doubt, allowed personal considerations to influence him." A short sudden chuckle came from Aunt Maria; she rose to her feet and crossed the room to May. "If he's going to abuse Sandro, I mustn't stay," she said. "I couldn't bear to lose any of my illusions, my dear." She kissed May and added, "You might tell him to come and see me, though. I should like to hear what he's got in his head now. Good-bye, Lord Richard. Don't you fret about your Crusade. Sandro'll take it up again when it's convenient." She chuckled again at the puzzled stare which accompanied Dick's shake of the hand. "A very kind old woman, but with a rather malicious tongue," said May. She walked to the hearth and stood there, facing her visitor. "Now, Dick, what is it?" she asked. "The Dean's tremendously hurt about it; he doesn't say much, but he feels it deeply." "I'm very sorry. What are the personal considerations?" "You know Henstead?" It was the borough for which Quisante sat. "There's an old Wesleyan colony there; several of them are very rich and employ a lot of labour and so on. They've always voted for us. And they've found a lot of the money. They found a lot when Quisante got in before." "Yes?" Her voice displayed interest but nothing more. Dick grew rather red and hurried on with his story. "Well, one of them, old Foster the maltster, came to your husband and--and told him they didn't like the Crusade and that it wouldn't do." He paused, glanced at May for an instant, and ended, "The seat's not safe, you know, and--and it wants money to fight it." A silence of some few minutes followed. Dick fidgeted with his hat, while May looked out of the window on to the river. "Why do you come and tell this to me?" she asked presently. "Supposing it was all true, what could I do?" Dick's resentment got the better of him; he answered hotly, "Well, you might tell him that it was playing it pretty low down on us." "Have you told him that?"