There was biting irony, Howden had often thought, in the fact that a Canadian Prime Minister, guiding his nation's destiny, received less in salary and allowances than a US congressman. He had no official car, providing his own from an inadequate allowance, and even provision of a house was something comparatively new. As recently as 1950 the then Prime Minister, Louis St Laurent, had been obliged to live in a two-room apartment, so small that Madame St Laurent had stored the family preserves under her bed. Moreover, after a lifetime of parliamentary service, the most an ex-Prime Minister could expect to receive on retirement was three thousand dollars a year from a contributory pension scheme. One result for the nation in the past had been that Prime Ministers tended to ding to office in old age. Others retired to penury and the charity of friends. Cabinet Ministers and MPs fared even less well. It's a remarkable thing, Howden thought, that so many of us stay honest. In a remote way he sympathized a little with

Harvey Warrender for what he had done.

'You'd have done better to marry a businessman,' he told Margaret. 'Second vice presidents have more cash for spending.'

'I suppose there've been other compensations.' Margaret smiled. Thank God, he thought, we have had a good marriage.'

Political life could bleed you of so many things in return for power – sentiment, illusions, integrity even – and without the warmth of a woman close to him a man could become a hollow shell. He brushed aside the thought of Milly Freedeman, though with a sense of nervousness he had experienced earlier on.

'I was thinking the other day,' he said, 'about that time your father found us. Do you remember?'