“Slightly. By the way, what are you going to do with my Lord? He wants, like Sancho, to be governor of an island.”
“What an old bore! without brains, fortune, or influence.”
“He has a very pretty wife, Meek. Don't you think the Foreign Office would recognize that claim?”
“So they send him out of this, I am content. But to return to what we were talking about. Shall we say Friday? or will Saturday suit you? and we'll make up a small party.”
“I fear not. I mean to leave the town by the end of the week.”
“Not for any time?”
“A few days only, and then I shall be at your orders. Meanwhile, leave Cashel to himself; he has got some suspicions—Heaven knows whence or how—that his borough influence makes him a very important card just now; therefore don't notice him, starve him out, and you 'll have him come forth with a white flag one of these days. I know him well, and the chances are that, if he were to attribute any of your civilities to the score of your calculation respecting his political influence, he would at once become your most determined opponent.”
“But his borough—”
“Let him represent it himself, Meek, and it's the next best thing to disfranchisement.”
“He would not be likely to accept any advice from us?” asked Meek, half timidly.