“That is sorry comfort you give me.”
“Don't you know any women?”
“Women—women? I know several.”
“I mean women of fashion. Those meddlesome women that are always dabbling in politics and the Stock Exchange—very deep where you think they know nothing, and perfectly ignorant about what they pretend to know best. They 've two-thirds of the patronage of every government in England; you may laugh, but it's true.”
“Come, Mr. Cutbill, if you 'll not take more wine we 'll join my sister,” said Bramleigh, with a faint smile.
“Get them to make you a Commissioner—it doesn't matter of what—Woods and Forests—Bankruptcy—Lunacy—anything; it 's always two thousand a year, and little to do for it. And if you can't be a Commissioner, be an Inspector, and then you have your travelling expenses;” and Cutbill winked knowingly as he spoke, and sauntered away to the drawing-room.
CHAPTER XXXVII. THE APPOINTMENT
“What will Mr. Cutbill say now?” cried Ellen, as she stood leaning on her brother's shoulder, while he read a letter marked' “On Her Majesty's Service,” and sealed with a prodigious extravagance of wax. It ran thus:—
Downing Street, September 10th Sir,—I have received instructions from Sir Francis Deighton, Her Majesty's Principal Secretary of State for the Colonies, to acknowledge your letter of the 9th instant; and while expressing his regret that he has not at this moment any post in his department which he could offer for your acceptance, to state that Her Majesty's Secretary for Foreign Affairs will consent to appoint you consul at Cattaro, full details of which post, duties, salary, &c, will be communicated to you in the official despatch from the Foreign Office.