For the next few days following the night of the dinner at John Castlemaine's house, a change seemed to have come over Radford Leicester. He became less hopeless, and he did not drink so freely. It might seem as though an evening spent in the society of a good woman had a beneficial effect upon him. He did not take any further steps to carry out his avowed intention, but when he spoke of women it was with less bitterness. Both Sprague and Purvis noticed this, and both wondered what it portended. Could it be that Leicester meant to reform, or did it mean that he was simply playing a part, in order to win the woman he had boasted he could win? Nevertheless he was moody, and seemed unhappy. He met these men sometimes at the club, but spoke little. Moreover, in public he was very abstemious, so much so that even the waiter noticed it. "Is he turning over a new leaf?" asked Purvis of Sprague. "If he is, he is not playing the game," replied the other. "Why do you say that?" "Because it was understood that he should win her on the understanding that he was an atheist and a drunkard." "But surely you don't object to his reforming?" "No, of course I should be only too glad if he did, only in that case all the point of our discussion would be gone." They were, during this conversation, sitting in the club where we first met them, and just as Purvis was about to reply to the other Leicester entered the room. He looked even paler than usual, and the dark rings around his eyes suggested pain either physical or mental. No sooner did he see them than he walked towards them, as if glad of an opportunity of companionship. "How are you, Leicester?" "I have a beastly headache," he replied. Sprague and Purvis looked at each other significantly, a look which Leicester noticed. "No," he said, "don't draw your conclusions. I have not been drinking. It's that confounded constituency." "Why, anything happened there?" "No--nothing of importance. It's only the old game. This man has to be written to, and the other man has to have a certain statement explained. I'd give up the whole thing for twopence." "Where would your career be then, Leicester?" "Hang the career," he said moodily. "It's all very well to say that, old man, but a great deal depends on it." "What?" "Well, your future--your future in Parliament, and your future matrimonial arrangements." He gave the two men an angry look. "Surely that's my affair," he said. "Sorry to contradict you, old man; but it is our affair too. That hundred pounds, you know." Leicester gave expression to a sentiment which was more forcible than elegant. Sprague looked at him eagerly. Ever since the night when we first met these men, he had cherished anger in his heart towards Leicester. He felt that this man despised him, and he was glad of the opportunity of giving him one, as he termed it, "on his own account." "Our gallant warrior is afraid to fight," he said with a sneer.