He might make an excellent chairman of a parish council.

As a Cabinet Minister he would be impossible." "He will demand office, I am afraid," Nora remarked.
Tallente took off his hat.

He was watching the lights from the two great hotels, the red fires from the funnel of a little tug, Mack and mysterious in the windy darkness.
"I am sick of politics," he declared suddenly.

"We are a parcel of fools.

Our feet move day and night to the solemn music." "You, of all men," she protested, "to be talking like this!" "I mean it," he insisted, a little doggedly.