" She walked across to
the mantelpiece, the crumpled sheet of paper in her hand. She looked at
Fanny with the little smile still on her lips as she lit a candle and
burnt the note in its flame, dropping the ashes into the grate. Quisante
lay as though unconscious, taking no heed of his sister-in-law's
proffered services. Jimmy Benyon stood in awkward stillness, looking at
May. Suddenly May broke into a laugh.
"Just as well to burn it; it might be misunderstood," said she. Jimmy
moved towards her quickly and impulsively. "No, no, I'm all right," she
went on. "And we've won, haven't we? I'm going to my room. Look after
him." She paused and added, smiling still, "His head's very bad, you
know." And so, pale and smiling, she left her husband to their care.
The ashes of Mr. Foster's note seemed to crinkle into a sour grin where
they lay on the black-leaded floor of the fire-grate.
CHAPTER XIV.
OPEN EYES.
It is a matter of common observation that the local influences and
peculiarities which loom so large before the eyes of both parties during
such a struggle as that at Henstead seem to be entirely forgotten after
the declaration of the poll, at least by the victorious faction and their
friends in the Press and the country.
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