“It would depend very much, I suppose, on Lord Tulla.”

“I don’t know anything about Lord Tulla,” said Violet; “but I’m quite sure that he might have Loughton, if we manage it properly.  Of course Lord Chiltern should have it if he wants it, but I don’t think he will stand in Mr. Finn’s way.”

“I’m afraid it’s out of the question,” said Lady Laura, gravely.  “Papa thinks so much about the borough.”  The reader will remember that both Lord Brentford and his daughter were thorough reformers!  The use of a little borough of his own, however, is a convenience to a great peer.

“Those difficult things have always to be talked of for a long while, and then they become easy,” said Violet.  “I believe if you were to propose to Mr. Kennedy to give all his property to the Church Missionaries and emigrate to New Zealand, he’d begin to consider it seriously after a time.”

“I shall not try, at any rate.”

“Because you don’t want to go to New Zealand;—­but you might try about Loughton for poor Mr. Finn.”

“Violet,” said Lady Laura, after a moment’s pause;—­and she spoke sharply; “Violet, I believe you are in love with Mr. Finn.”

“That’s just like you, Laura.”

“I never made such an accusation against you before, or against anybody else that I can remember.  But I do begin to believe that you are in love with Mr. Finn.”

“Why shouldn’t I be in love with him, if I like?”

“I say nothing about that;—­only he has not got a penny.”

“But I have, my dear.”

“And I doubt whether you have any reason for supposing that he is in love with you.”

“That would be my affair, my dear.”

“Then you are in love with him?”

“That is my affair also.”

Lady Laura shrugged her shoulders.  “Of course it is; and if you tell me to hold my tongue, of course I will do so.  If you ask me whether I think it a good match, of course I must say I do not.”

“I don’t tell you to hold your tongue, and I don’t ask you what you think about the match.  You are quite welcome to talk as much about me as you please;—­but as to Mr. Phineas Finn, you have no business to think anything.”

“I shouldn’t talk to anybody but yourself.”

“I am growing to be quite indifferent as to what people say.  Lady Baldock asked me the other day whether I was going to throw myself away on Mr. Laurence Fitzgibbon.”

“No!”

“Indeed she did.”

“And what did you answer?”

“I told her that it was not quite settled; but that as I had only spoken to him once during the last two years, and then for not more than half a minute, and as I wasn’t sure whether I knew him by sight, and as I had reason to suppose he didn’t know my name, there might, perhaps, be a delay of a week or two before the thing came off.  Then she flounced out of the room.”

“But what made her ask about Mr. Fitzgibbon?”