When May hinted at a period of
rest--the full extent of it was not disclosed--Foster nodded tolerantly,
Japhet said times were critical, and the rest declared that they would
not flog a willing horse, but knew that Mr. Quisante would do his duty.
Unquestionably Henstead's effect was bad, both for the compromise and for
Quisante. Minute by minute May saw how the old fascination grew on him,
how more and more he forgot that this was to be the last effort, that it
was an end, not a beginning. He gave pledges of action, he would not
positively decline engagements, he talked as though he would be in his
place in Parliament throughout the session. While doing all this he
avoided meeting her eye; he would have found nothing worse than pity
touched with amusement. But he kept declaring to her, when they had a
chance of being alone, that he was loyal to their compact. "Though it's
pretty hard," he added with a renewal of his bitterness against the fate
that constrained him.
"We ought never to have come," she said. "It makes it worse. I wish we
hadn't.
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