"You must do with very little sleep."
"I never had much time for sleeping," answered Hook, "and I shall
have to be the late man to-night, anyhow. The Prime Minister wants
to have a talk, he tells me, and, all things considered, I think
we'd better be dressing for dinner."
Dinner passed off that evening without a word of politics and little
enough but ceremonial trifles. The Prime Minister, Lord Merivale,
who was a long, slim man with curly gray hair, was gravely
complimentary to his host about his success as a fisherman and the
skill and patience he displayed; the conversation flowed like the
shallow stream through the stepping-stones.
"It wants patience to wait for them, no doubt," said Sir Isaac, "and
skill to play them, but I'm generally pretty lucky at it."
"Does a big fish ever break the line and get away?" inquired the
politician, with respectful interest.
"Not the sort of line I use," answered Hook, with satisfaction. "I
rather specialize in tackle, as a matter of fact. If he were strong
enough to do that, he'd be strong enough to pull me into the river."
"A great loss to the community," said the Prime Minister, bowing.
Fisher had listened to all these futilities with inward impatience,
waiting for his own opportunity, and when the host rose he sprang to
his feet with an alertness he rarely showed.
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