Watching Theresa May’s tearful farewell on the steps of Downing Street I felt intensely the tangle of sentiment and argument, the wrestle of conflicting emotions that now disfigure our politics as they have disfigured her premiership.

When she spoke of her disappointed hopes I felt sympathy. When she tried to drag in the kindertransport of children rescued from the Nazis — and twisted the words of its pioneer, Sir Nicholas Winton, into an argument for her Brexit compromise — I felt rage and scorn. When her voice cracked I felt pity. When she spoke of the need to seek common ground I felt indignant at a prime minister who stubbornly refused to reach out until her own position was threatened.

And when she reminded us