Borrowdean's eyebrows were raised. He held his cigarette between his
fingers, and looked at it for several moments.

"Yet I am here," he said slowly, "for no other purpose."

Mannering turned and faced his friend.

"All I can say is that I am sorry to hear it," he declared. "I know the
sort of man you are, Borrowdean, and I know very well that if you have
come down here with something to say to me you will say it. Therefore go
on. Let us have it over."

Borrowdean stood up. His tone acquired a new earnestness. He became at
once more of a man. The cynical curve of his lips had vanished.

"We are on the eve of great opportunities, Mannering," he said. "Six
months ago the result of the next General Election seemed assured. We
appeared to be as far off any chance of office as a political party could
be. To-day the whole thing is changed. We are on the eve of a general
reconstruction. It is our one great chance of this generation. I come to
you as a patriot. Rochester asks you to forget."

Mannering held up his hand.

"Stop one moment, Borrowdean," he said. "I want you to understand this
once and for all. I have no grievance against Rochester. The old wound,
if it ever amounted to that, is healed. If Rochester were here at this
moment I would take his hand cheerfully. But--"