“What are you doing away from Hythe at this time?” asked Melville.
“I came here to write a letter,” said Chatteris.
He looked about him rather helplessly. Then he sat down beside Melville and demanded a cigarette. Suddenly he plunged into intimacy.
“It is doubtful whether I shall contest Hythe,” he remarked.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
He lit his cigarette.
“Would you?” he asked.
“Not a bit of it,” said Melville. “But then it’s not my line.”
“Is it mine?”
“Isn’t it a little late in the day to drop it?” said Melville. “You’ve been put up for it now. Every one’s at work. Miss Glendower——”
“I know,” said Chatteris.
“Well?”
“I don’t seem to want to go on.”
“My dear man!”
“It’s a bit of overwork perhaps. I’m off colour. Things have gone flat. That’s why I’m up here.”
He did a very absurd thin
