"Don't you listen to Lady Sybil, Brooks," he retorted. "She is annoyed
with me because I have been spoken of as a future Prime Minister, and
she rather fancies her cousin for the post. Two knobs, please, and
plenty of cream. As a matter of fact I am in serious and downright
earnest. I say that Henslow won his seat by kidding the working
classes. He promised them a sort of political Arabian Nights. He'll go
up to Westminster, and I'm open to bet what you like that he makes not
one serious practical effort to push forward one of the startling
measures he talked about so glibly. I will trouble you for the toast,
Brooks. Thanks!"
"He is always cynical like this," Sybil murmured, "when his party have
lost a seat. Don't take any notice of him, Mr. Brooks. I have great
faith in Mr. Henslow, and I believe that he will do his best."
Molyneux smiled.
"Henslow is a politician," he remarked, "a professional politician.
What you Radicals want is Englishmen who are interested in politics.
Henslow knows how to get votes. He's got his seat, and he'll keep
it--till the next election.
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