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To my great relief the Wymington committee have adopted Dale as their
candidate at the by-election. He can scarcely contain himself for joy.
He is like a child who has been told that he shall be taken to the
seaside. I believe he lies awake all night thinking how he will make
things hum.
The other side have chosen Wilberforce, who unsuccessfully contested the
Ferney division of Wiltshire at the last general election. He is old and
ugly. Dale is young and beautiful. I think Dale will get in.
I have said good-bye to Lola. The astonishing woman burst into tears
and kissed my hands and said something about my being the arbiter of
her destiny--a Gallic phrase which she must have picked up from Captain
Vauvenarde. Then she buried her face in the bristling neck of Adolphus,
the Chow dog, and declared him to be her last remaining consolation.
Even Anastasius Papadopoulos had ceased to visit her. I uttered words of
comfort.
"I have left you Dale at any rate."
She smiled enigmatically through her tears.


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