In the first place, he had a true eye for a strong man wherever he met him; in the next place, Lancelot's uncle the banker, was a stanch Whig ally of his in the House.

'In the rotten-borough times, Mr. Smith,' he once said to Lancelot, 'we could have made a senator of you at once; but, for the sake of finality, we were forced to relinquish that organ of influence.

The Tories had abused it, really, a little too far; and now we can only make a commissioner of you--which, after all, is a more useful post, and a more lucrative one.' But Lancelot had not as yet 'Galliolised,' as the Irish schoolmaster used to call it, and cared very little to play a political ninth fiddle.
The first thing which caught his eyes as he entered the drawing-room before dinner was Argemone listening in absorbed reverence to her favourite vicar,--a stern, prim, close-shaven, dyspeptic man, with a meek, cold smile, which might have become a cruel one.

He watched and watched in vain, hoping to catch her eye; but no--there she stood, and talked and listened-- 'Ah,' said Bracebridge, smiling, 'it is in vain, Smith! When did you know a woman leave the Church for one of us poor laymen ?' 'Good heavens!' said Lancelot, impatiently, 'why will they make such fools of themselves with clergymen ?' 'They are quite right.

They always like the strong men--the fighters and the workers.