"Yes; he is odd. He seems to be fretful when we are with him. A good many things make him unhappy."
"Your poor mother's death."
"That first;—and then there are other things. I suppose he didn't like the way I came to an end at Oxford."
"You were a boy then."
"Of course I was very sorry for it,—though I hated Oxford. It was neither one thing nor another. You were your own master and yet you were not."
"Now you must be your own master."
"I suppose so."
"You must marry, and become a lord of the Treasury. When I was a child I acted as a child. You know all about that."
"Oh yes. And now I must throw off childish things. You mean that I mustn't paint any man's house? Eh, Lady Mab."
"That and the rest of it. You are a legislator now."