After five minutes' dread lest he might be pursued, he struck a match and read: "Great Titchfield Street--Branscombe 15, Churchill 11, Langtry 8, Gladstone 4.
"Mortimer Street--Langtry 11, Branscombe 9, Gladstone 6, Mary Anderson 6, Churchill 3.
"Margaret Street--Churchill 7, Anderson 6, Branscombe 5, Gladstone 4, Chamberlain 4.
"Smaller streets--Churchill 14, Branscombe 13, Gladstone 9, Langtry 9.
Totals for to-day: Churchill 35, Langtry 28, Gladstone 23, Branscombe 42, Anderson 12, Chamberlain nowhere." Then followed, as if in a burst of passion, "Branscombe still leading--confound her." Andrew saw that Lord Randolph had been calculating fame from vesta boxes.
For a moment this discovery sent Andrew's mind wandering.

Miss Branscombe's photographs obstructed the traffic.

Should not this be put a stop to?
Ah, but she was a woman! This recalled him to himself.

Lord Randolph had departed, probably for St.Stephen's.
Andrew jumped into a hansom.

He felt like an exotic in a glass frame.
"The House," he said.
What a pity his mother could not have seen him then! Perhaps Andrew was prejudiced.