Betty, indeed, regained her composure very quickly, like a stream when the gust has passed. They fell into a keen, practical discussion of the affair. Who had influence with Ancoats? What man? Naseby shook his head. The difference in age between Ancoats and Maxwell was too great, and the men too unlike in temperament. He himself had done what he could, in vain, and Ancoats now told him nothing; for the rest, he thought Ancoats had very few friends amid his innumerable acquaintance, and such as he had, of a third-rate dramatic sort, not likely to be of much use at this moment. "I haven't seen him take to any fellow of his own kind as much as he has taken to George Tressady these two days, since he left Cambridge. But that's no good, of course--it's too new." The two sat side by side, pondering. Suddenly Naseby said, smiling, with a change of expression: "This party is really quite interesting. Look there!" Betty looked, and saw George Tressady, with his hands in his pockets, lounging along a distant path beside Marcella Maxwell. "Well!" said Betty, "what then?" Naseby gave his mouth a twist. "Nothing; only it's odd. I ran across them just now--I was playing ball with that jolly little imp, Hallin. You never saw two people more absorbed. Of course he's _sous le charme_--we all are. Our English politics are rather rum, aren't they? They don't indulge in this amiable country-house business in a South American republic, you know. They prefer shooting." "And you evidently think it a healthier state of things. Wait till we come to something nearer to _our_ hearths and bosoms than Factory Acts," said Betty, with the wisdom of her kind. "All the same, Lord Fontenoy is in earnest." "Oh yes, Fontenoy is in earnest. So, I suppose, is Tressady. So--good Heavens!--is Maxwell. I say, here comes the church party." And from a side-door in a venerable wall, beyond which could be seen the tower of a little church, there emerged a small group of people--Mrs. Allison, Lady Cathedine, and Madeleine Penley in front, escorted by the white-haired Sir Philip; and behind, Lady Tressady, between Harding Watton and Lord Cathedine. "Cathedine!" cried Naseby, staring at the group. "Cathedine been to church?" "For the purpose, I suppose, of disappointing poor Laura, who might have hoped to get rid of him," said Betty, sharply. "No!--if I were Mrs. Allison I should draw the line at Lord Cathedine." "Nobody need see any more of Cathedine than they want," said Naseby, calmly; "and, of course, he behaves himself here. Moreover, there is no doubt at all about his brains. They say Fontenoy expects to make great use of him in the Lords." "By the way," said Betty, turning round upon him, "where are you?" "Well, thank God! I'm not in Parliament," was Naseby's smiling reply. "So don't trouble me for opinions. I have none. Except that, speaking generally, I should like Lady Maxwell to get what she wants."