And she, to please him, chattered of great people and events, of scenes and leaders in Parliament, of diplomats and royalties; all the gossip of the moment, in fact, fluttering round the principal figures of English and European politics.

It was the talk most natural to her; the talk of the world she knew best; and as Elizabeth was full of shrewdness and natural salt, without a trace of malice, no more at least than a woman should have--to borrow the saying about Wilkes and his squint--her chatter was generally in request, and she knew it.
But Anderson, though he had led up to it, did not apparently enjoy it; on the contrary, she felt him gradually withdrawing and cooling, becoming a little dry and caustic, even satirical, as on the first afternoon of their acquaintance.

So that after a while her gossip flagged; since the game wants two to play it.

Then Anderson walked on with a furrowed brow, and raised colour; and she could not imagine what had been done or said to annoy him.
She could only try to lead him back to Canada.

But she got little or no response.
"Our politics must seem to you splashes in a water-butt," he said impatiently, "after London and Europe." "A pretty big water-butt!" "Size makes no difference." Elizabeth's lips twitched as she remembered Arthur Delaine's similar protests; but she kept her countenance, and merely worked the harder to pull her companion out of this odd pit of ill-humour into which he had fallen.