“Not very well,” hesitated the Duke of Battersea, “but you know he wanted....”
“I really don’t care,” said Sir Charles moving away. “Anyhow I’ll do it.”
The Duke was profuse in his thanks.
Charles Repton returned to the House of Commons. Another message!
“The Prime Minister begged to see Sir Charles Repton:” really there was no end to the number of people wanting to see him that day! Charles Repton went towards Dolly’s room with such muscles showing upon his face as would have made any one afraid to say another word about the headache,—but it was not of the headache, at least not of that directly, that Dolly had to speak.
“Repton,” he said apologetically and in some dread, “I’m afraid I made arrangements for a proxy next week—I mean for L’Acceptance you know.”
“Oh you did!” said Sir Charles, really nettled. “You might have asked me first I think!”
“Well, you see,” began his unfortunate chief,—
“As a fact I don’t see,” said Repton drily, “but I suppose you’ve put it right. I’ve written to say I should be there.”