to make a good fight for it." I had borrowed her own words.
He looked up at me and smiled.

"Thank you," he said.

"I believe you think it's a losing game," he added, with a touch of gray humour that was like a genial hour of sunlight on a wintry day.

I did not answer.

A little way down the road Miss Churchill's carriage whirled into sight, sparkling in the sunlight, and sending up an attendant cloud of dust that melted like smoke through the dog-roses of the leeward hedge.
"So you don't think much of me as a politician," Churchill suddenly deduced smilingly.