men dined and smoked and played billiards and pretended to read.
Some few energetic members still hoped that a good day would come
in which their grand ideas might be realized,--but as regarded
the members generally, they were content to eat and drink and
play billiards. It was a fairly good club,--with a sprinkling
of Liberal lordlings, a couple of dozen of members of Parliament
who had been made to believe that they would neglect their party
duties unless they paid their money, and the usual assortment of
barristers, attorneys, city merchants, and idle men. It was good
enough, at any rate, for Ferdinand Lopez, who was particular
about his dinner, and had an opinion of his own about wines. He
had been heard to assert that, for real quiet comfort, there was
not a club in London equal to it, but his hearers were not aware
that in the past days he had been black-balled at the T and the
G. These were accidents which Lopez had a gift of keeping in
the background. His present companion, Everett Wharton, had, as
well himself, been an original member;--and Wharton had been one
of those who had hoped to find in the club a stepping-stone to
high political life, and who now talked often with idle energy of
the need for organization.

'For myself,' said Lopez, 'I can conceive no vainer object of
ambition than a seat in the British Parliament. What does any
man gain by it? The few are successful work very hard for little
pay and no thanks,--or nearly equally hard for no pay and as
little thanks. The many who fail sit idly for hours, undergoing
the weary task of listening to platitudes, and enjoy in return
the now absolutely valueless privilege of having MP written on
their letters.'