A foreign diplomatist of distinction had pinned Lord Marney, and was dexterously pumping him as to the probable future.
“But is the pear ripe?” said the diplomatist.
“The pear is ripe if we have courage to pluck it,” said Lord Marney; “but our fellows have no pluck.”
“But do you think that the Duke of Wellington—” and here the diplomatist stopped and looked up in Lord Marney’s face, as if he would convey something that he would not venture to express.
“Here he is,” said Lord Marney, “he will answer the question himself.”
Lord Deloraine and Mr Ormsby passed by; the diplomatist addressed them: “You have not been to the Chamber?”
“No,” said Lord Deloraine; “but I hear there is hot work. It will be late.”
“Do you think—,” said the diplomatist, and he looked up in the face of Lord Deloraine.
“I think that in the long run everything will have an end,” said Lord Deloraine.
“Ah!” said the diplomatist.