to your sitting-room, Lady Horace. This isn't exactly the place for ladies."
A number of men had come in from the outside entrance. They were talking noisily. Trant's voice could be heard above the others. He stopped short at the sight of the ladies and lifted his hat to Lady Horace, who gave him rather a cool nod. All the men seemed to cluster naturally round the central figure, Blake himself, taller than the others, more erect, and altogether better-bred looking. He too raised his hat at the sight of Elsie, but with his left hand. She made a slight movement in his direction. It was more a gesture than a movement, but he interpreted it as she had intended, and came to speak to her.
"I hope your arm is all right now," she said. "No, I see it isn't. Why do you wear a sling?"
"The shoulder was dislocated," he said in an eager confused manner, "and Abatos pulled all the way to Baròlin, and made a nasty business out of what would have been nothing if I had kept quiet."
"Abatos!" she exclaimed. "You called him Osman."
"Abatos," said Hallett, " is the name of Moonlight's famous horse."
"I suppose I was thinking of that. Someone has just been speaking of Moonlight," replied Mr. Blake quietly. But Elsie had fancied when she spoke that his face had changed, and that he had grown paler. Was it the sight of her which had agitated him? The girl's heart thrilled with an odd momentary sense of triumph.
"The excitement of an election is apt to confuse one's faculties," Blake went on. "You have come into the thick of the fight, Miss Valliant. But I think on the whole"—he turned to Hallett—"that the warfare is conducted with as little rancour as could be expected, considering the sort of mob we have to deal with."
"Your mob," said Hallett, laughing. "Mine is decorous, compared with your wild Irishmen"
"My wild Irishmen? They are the best-natured and the
