"Maybe," Mr. Bullsom answered. "Maybe not. But apart from the
immediate matter of this election, I can tell you one thing, gentlemen,
which may interest you."
He paused. One thumb stole towards the armhole of his waistcoat. He
liked to see these nightly companions of his hang upon his words. It
was a proper and gratifying tribute to his success as a man of affairs.
"I have just left," he said, "our future Member."
The significance of his speech was not immediately apparent.
"Henslow! Oh, yes. Committee meeting this afternoon, wasn't it?" some
one remarked.
"I do not mean Henslow," Mr. Bullsom replied. "I mean Kingston
Brooks."
The desired sensation was apparent.
"Why, he's your new agent, isn't he?"
"Young fellow who plays cricket rather well."
"Great golfer, they say!"
"Makes a good speech, some one was saying."
"Gives free lectures at the Secular Hall." "Rather a smart young
solicitor, they say!"
Mr. Bullsom looked around him.
"He is all these things, and he does all these things. He is one of
these youngsters who has the knack of doing everything well.
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