“Oh, hollow from the beginning. Not a chance. They have brought in both their people. You are beaten out of all reason. Three to one.”

It is a part of Mr. Tulkinghorn’s policy and mastery to have no political opinions; indeed, no opinions. Therefore he says “you” are beaten, and not “we.”

Sir Leicester is majestically wroth. Volumnia never heard of such a thing. The debilitated cousin holds that it’s sort of thing that’s sure tapn slongs votes⁠—giv’n⁠—Mob.

“It’s the place, you know,” Mr. Tulkinghorn goes on to say in the fast-increasing darkness when there is silence again, “where they wanted to put up Mrs. Rouncewell’s son.”