"Oh, Phineas Finn!" said Lord Chiltern; "oh, Phineas Finn! what a pity it was that you and I didn't see the matter out when we stood opposite to each other on the sands at Blankenberg!"
"Oswald," said his wife, getting up, and putting her arm over his shoulder, "you know you would give your best horse to Mr. Finn, as long as he chose to stay here, though you rode upon a donkey yourself."
"I know that if I didn't, you would," said Lord Chiltern. And so the matter was settled.
At night, when they were alone together, there was further discussion as to the visitors who were coming to Harrington Hall. "Is Gerard Maule to come back?" asked the husband.
"I have asked him. He left his horses at Doggett's, you know."
"I didn't know."
"I certainly told you, Oswald. Do you object to his coming? You can't really mean that you care about his riding?"
"It isn't that. You must have some whipping post, and he's as good as another. But he shilly-shallies about that girl. I hate all that stuff like poison."
"All men are not so—abrupt shall I say?—as you were."
"I had something to say, and I said it. When I had said it a dozen times, I got to have it believed. He doesn't say it as though he meant to have it believed."