“They were his at first. They’re mine now, for he gave them to me, and I’m going to keep them.”
“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” said Lalage. “Do you, Hilda? I suppose you and Tithers can both afford to buy a few more bottles if you want them.”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I’m quite ready to give a sovereign a bottle if necessary, and I’m sure that Titherington would, too. The point is that my nurse won’t let me have any, and I don’t suppose Titherington’s wife will let him. That ass McMeekin insists on poisoning me with barley water, and Titherington’s doctor, whoever he is, is most likely doing the same.”
“I see,” said Lalage. “This just bears out what I’ve been saying all along about the utter want of common honesty in political life. Here are you and Tithers actually quarrelling about which of you is to be allowed to lie continuously. You are deliberately deceiving your doctor and nurse. Tithers wants to deceive his wife, which is, if anything, a shade worse. Hilda, find that bag.”
“Lalage,” I said, “you’re not going to give it to Titherington, are you? It wouldn’t be good for him, it wouldn’t really.”
“Make your mind quite easy about that,” said Lalage. “I’m not going to give it to either of you. Hilda, look under the bed. That’s just the idiotic sort of place Tithers would hide a thing.”
I heard Hilda grovelling about on the floor. A minute later she was dragging the bag out.
“What are you going to do with it, Lalage?”
“Take it away and keep it myself till you’re both well.”
“We never shall be,” I said. “We shall die. Please, Lalage, please don’t.”