"Nothing you need worry about on my account.
Only I must go _piano_ for the rest of my days. Marriage isn't to be
thought of. There is something else I must tell you. I must resign my
seat."
"Resign your seat? Give up Parliament? When?"
"As soon as possible."
He looked at me aghast, as if the world were coming to an end.
"We had better concoct an epistle to Raggles this morning."
"But you can't be serious?"
"I can sometimes, my dear Dale. This is one of the afflicting
occasions."
"You out of Parliament? You out of public life? It's inconceivable. It's
damnable. But you're just coming into your own--what Raggles said, what
I told you yesterday. But it can't be. You can hold on. I'll do all the
drudgery for you. I'll work night and day."
And he tramped up and down the room, uttering the disconnected phrases
which an honest young soul unaccustomed to express itself emotionally
blurts out in moments of deep feeling.
"It's no use, Dale," said I, "I've got my marching orders."
"But why should they come just now?"
"When the sweets of office are dangling at my lips? It's pretty simple.
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