It was not until next day that I found a solution of my problem. Moyne buttonholed me after breakfast, and invited me, rather wistfully I thought, to go round the stables with him. He wanted my opinion of a new filly. I went, pursued by the sound of the Dean's voice. He was telling the story of a famous case of wife desertion brought about by the _Ne Temere_ decree. He was telling it to Cahoon, the Belfast manufacturer, who must, I am sure, have heard it several times before. I used, long ago, to be a good judge of horses. I still retained my eye for a neat filly. Moyne's latest acquisition was more than neat. I stroked her neck, and patted her flanks with genuine appreciation. Moyne looked quite cheerful and babbled pleasantly about hunting. Then Lady Moyne came through the door of the stable. I was very glad to see her. Her dress, a simple brown tweed, suited her admirably, and her smile, less radiant, perhaps, than it was the night before when set off by her diamonds, was most attractive. Moyne, too, though I knew that he did not want to talk politics, was glad to see her. She came into the horse-box, and fondled the filly. Then she sighed. "What a lot we have to go through for a good cause!" she said. "Those terrible men!" "Heavy going," said Moyne, "that kind of thing at breakfast. Let's take out the new car, and go for a spin." "I should love to," she said, "but I must not. I only ran out to speak to you for a minute, Lord Kilmore." Her eyes led me to believe at dinner the night before that I was the one man among her guests that she really wanted to talk to. Now her lips said the same thing plainly. I did not believe it, of course; but I felt quite as much gratified as if it had been true. "Mr. Conroy comes this afternoon," she said. "That millionaire fellow?" said Moyne, who was evidently not well up in the list of his visitors. "And I want you to take him in hand," said Lady Moyne to me--not to her husband. "He's very clever, and it's most important to get him interested in our movement." "You'd much better take him in hand yourself," I said. "If any one could interest him--" "I shall, of course; but I can't always be with him. I'm dreadfully afraid that if Mr. Babberly talks to him--but you know what Mr. Babberly is. He's splendid in Parliament and on a platform; perfectly splendid. We've nobody like him. But he might not quite suit Mr. Conroy. Then poor dear Colonel Malcolmson does talk such nonsense. Of course it's very good in its way, and I do hope the Liberals will lay to heart what he says about fighting before it's too late--" "Mr. Conroy is a business man," I said, "and has a reputation for shrewdness." "That's just it," said Lady Moyne, "and the others--the Dean and that curious Mr. Cahoon. They're dears, perfect dears in the way they stand up for the Union and the Empire, but--" She shrugged her shoulders, and smiled. "I quite understand," I said; "but, after all, I'm rather an old bore, too."