“On Tuesday if I can.”

“I suppose you can arrange it?”

“I shall endeavour to do so, as far as any arrangement can go.”

“We shall carry the second reading,” said Lady Laura.

“Yes,” said Phineas; “I think we shall; but by the votes of men who are determined so to pull the bill to pieces in committee, that its own parents will not know it.  I doubt whether Mr. Mildmay will have the temper to stand it.”

“They tell me that Mr. Mildmay will abandon the custody of the bill to Mr. Gresham after his first speech.”

“I don’t know that Mr. Gresham’s temper is more enduring than Mr. Mildmay’s,” said Phineas.

“Well;—­we shall see.  My own impression is that nothing would save the country so effectually at the present moment as the removal of Mr. Turnbull to a higher and a better sphere.”

“Let us say the House of Lords,” said Phineas.

“God forbid!” said Lady Laura.

Phineas sat there for half an hour and then got up to go, having spoken no word on any other subject than that of politics.  He longed to ask after Violet.  He longed to make some inquiry respecting Lord Chiltern.  And, to tell the truth, he felt painfully curious to hear Lady Laura say something about her own self.  He could not but remember what had been said between them up over the waterfall, and how he had been warned not to return to Loughlinter.  And then again, did Lady Laura know anything of what had passed between him and Violet?  “Where is your brother?” he said, as he rose from his chair.

“Oswald is in London.  He was here not an hour before you came in.”

“Where is he staying?”

“At Moroni’s.  He goes down on Tuesday, I think.  He is to see his father to-morrow morning.”

“By agreement?”

“Yes;—­by agreement.  There is a new trouble,—­about money that they think to be due to me.  But I cannot tell you all now.  There have been some words between Mr. Kennedy and papa.  But I won’t talk about it.  You would find Oswald at Moroni’s at any hour before eleven to-morrow.”

“Did he say anything about me?” asked Phineas.

“We mentioned your name certainly.”

“I do not ask from vanity, but I want to know whether he is angry with me.”

“Angry with you!  Not in the least.  I’ll tell you just what he said.  He said he should not wish to live even with you, but that he would sooner try it with you than with any man he ever knew.”

“He had got a letter from me?”

“He did not say so;—­but he did not say he had not.”

“I will see him to-morrow if I can.”  And then Phineas prepared to go.

“One word, Mr. Finn,” said Lady Laura, hardly looking him in the face and yet making an effort to do so.  “I wish you to forget what I said to you at Loughlinter.”

“It shall be as though it were forgotten,” said Phineas.

“Let it be absolutely forgotten.  In such a case a man is bound to do all that a woman asks him, and no man has a truer spirit of chivalry than yourself.  That is all.  Look in when you can.  I will not ask you to dine here as yet, because we are so frightfully dull.  Do your best on Tuesday, and then let us see you on Wednesday.  Good-bye.”