“You might, I think, have stayed to fight for the Budget.”
“I'm not,” I said, “so keen against the Lords.”
On that we halted.
“But what are you going to do?” she asked.
“I shall make my quarrel over some points in the Budget. I can't quite tell you yet where my chance will come. Then I shall either resign my seat—or if things drift to dissolution I shall stand again.”
“It's political suicide.”
“Not altogether.”
“I can't imagine you out of Parliament again. It's just like—like undoing all we have done. What will you do?”
“Write. Make a new, more definite place for myself. You know, of course, there's already a sort of group about Crupp and Gane.”
Margaret seemed lost for a time in painful thought.
“For me,” she said at last, “our political work has been a religion—it has been more than a religion.”
I heard in silence. I had no form of protest available against the implications of that.
“And then I find you turning against all we aimed to do—talking of going over, almost lightly—to those others.”...