At one end of the room sat the Mayor of the Borough in robe and chain of office, presiding over the proceedings.

The Returning Officer and his staff sat behind long tables, on which were deposited the sealed ballot boxes brought in from the various polling stations; and these were emptied and the votes were counted, the voting papers for each candidate being done up in bundles of fifty.

Knots of committee-men of both parties stood chatting in low voices.

In an ordinary election both candidates would have chatted together, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred about golf, and would have made an engagement to meet again in milder conflict that day week.
But here Paul was the only candidate to appear, and he sat in a cane-bottomed chair apart from the lounging politicians, feeling curiously an interloper in this vast, solemn and scantily-filled hall.
He was very tired, too tired in body, mind and soul to join in the small-talk of Wilson and his bodyguard.

Besides, they all wore the air of anticipated victory, and for that he held them in detestation.