“Stupid man!” exclaimed Lady St Julians; “I never could bear him. And I have sent his vulgar wife and great staring daughter a card for next Wednesday! Well, I hope affairs will soon be brought to a crisis, for I do not think I can bear much longer this life of perpetual sacrifice,” added Lady St Julians a little out of temper, both because she had lost a vote and found her friend and rival better informed than herself.
“There is no chance of a division to-night,” said Lady Deloraine.
“That is settled,” said Lady St Julians. “Adieu, my dear friend. We meet, I believe, at dinner?”
“Plotting,” said Mr Egerton to Mr Berners, as they passed the great ladies.
“The only consolation one has,” said Berners, “is, that if they do turn us out, Lady Deloraine and Lady St Julians must quarrel, for they both want the same thing.”
“Lady Deloraine will have it,” said Egerton.
Here they picked up Mr Jermyn, a young tory M.P., who perhaps the reader may remember at Mowbray Castle; and they walked on together, Egerton and Berners trying to pump him as to the expectations of his friends.
“How will Trodgits go?” said Egerton.
“I think Trodgits will stay away,” said Jermyn.
“Who do you give that new man to—that north-country borough fellow;—what’s his name?” said Berners.