Honourable Kirkstall Wilmot, we should indeed be living in an earthly Paradise. Everything wrong between nations took its rise in neglect to consult Wilmot.
"Good morning, Stranleigh!" he cried. "It is very good of you to receive me in this friendly way. Very good; very good indeed."
Even Stranleigh's enemies, if he had any, would admit that he was not such a fool as he looked. The insincerity of the Minister's greeting did not escape him. The words the Right Honourable should have used were—
"You are highly honoured by my visit"; and Stranleigh, standing, replied to the unspoken sentence and not to the one uttered.
"The honour is mine, Mr. Wilmot. Won't you take a chair?"
Both sat down, but the member of the Cabinet apparently was not at ease unless on his feet. His tones and his gestures were those of a man addressing an audience, and the speaker with an oratorical voice required a platform to march on. It was one of the Right Honourable's habits to walk about with his hands underneath his constantly-agitated coat-tails, reminding modern auditors of Chantecleer thinking he was causing the sun to rise,
