‘I believe we are, Mr. Flood, and I’ll tell you why I say so.’
I’ll be shot if I hear you, that’s all. Fill your glass. That’s old port that John Beresford tasted in the Custom-House Docks seventy-odd years ago, and you are the only Whig living that ever drank a drop of it!’
‘I am proud to be the first exception, and I go so far as to believe—I shall not be the last!’
‘I’ll send a few bottles over to that boy in the infirmary. It cannot but be good for him,’ said Flood.
‘Take care, for Heaven’s sake, if he be threatened with inflammation. Do nothing without the doctor’s leave.’
‘I wonder why the people who are so afraid of inflammation, are so fond of rebellion,’ said he sarcastically.
‘Perhaps I could tell you that, too—’
‘No, do not—do not, I beseech you; reading the Whig Ministers’ speeches has given me such a disgust to all explanations, I’d rather concede anything than hear how it could be defended! Apparently Mr. Disraeli is of my mind also, for he won’t support Paul Hartigan’s motion.’
‘What was Hartigan’s motion?’
‘For the papers, or the correspondence, or whatever they called it, that passed between Danesbury and Dan Donogan.’