In this new novel Mr. Oppenheim's genius for creating tangles and then unravelling them brings surprise after surprise to the reader.
ave come but for the war. Now I have become rather a failure."
"There was no necessity for you ever to have gone soldiering," she reminded him a little hardly.
"As you say," he acquiesced. "Still, I went and I do not regret it. I might even remind you that I met with some success."
"Pooh!" she scoffed. "What is the use of a few military distinctions? What are an M.C. and a D.S.O. and a few French and Belgian orders going to do for me? You know I want other things. They told me when I married you," she went on, warming with her own sense of injury, "that you were certain to be Prime Minister. They told me that the Coalition Party couldn't do without you, that you were the only effective link between them and Labour. You had only to play your cards properly and you could have pushed out Horlock whenever you liked. And now see what a mess you have made of things! You have built up Horlock's party for him, he offers you an insignificant post in the Cabinet, and you can't even win your seat in