did not know that the same could be said of any one of those by which
he had been supported. But, unfortunately, the judge by whom all this
would be decided might not reach Tankerville in his travels till
after Christmas, perhaps not till after Easter; and in the meantime,
what should he do with himself?

As for going back to Dublin, that was now out of the question. He had
entered upon a feverish state of existence in which it was impossible
that he should live in Ireland. Should he ultimately fail in regard
to his seat he must-vanish out of the world. While he remained in his
present condition he would not even endeavour to think how he might
in such case best bestow himself. For the present he would remain
within the region of politics, and live as near as he could to the
whirl of the wheel of which the sound was so dear to him. Of one club
he had always remained a member, and he had already been re-elected
a member of the Reform. So he took up his residence once more at the
house of a certain Mr. and Mrs. Bunce, in Great Marlborough Street,
with whom he had lodged when he first became a member of Parliament.

"So you're at the old game, Mr. Finn?" said his landlord.

"Yes; at the old game. I suppose it's the same with you?" Now Mr.
Bunce had been a very violent politician, and used to rejoice in
calling himself a Democrat.

"Pretty much the same, Mr. Finn. I don't see that things are much
better than they used to be. They tell me at the _People's Banner_
office that the lords have had as much to do with this election as
with any that ever went before it."