He was about to undress when there came a knock at the door, and his
host entered the room. "What do you mean to do about smoking?" Lord
Chiltern asked.
"Nothing at all."
"There's a fire in the smoking-room, but I'm tired, and I want to
go to bed. Baldock doesn't smoke. Gerard Maule is smoking in his
own room, I take it. You'll probably find Spooner at this moment
established somewhere in the back slums, having a pipe with old
Doggett, and planning retribution. You can join them if you please."
"Not to-night, I think. They wouldn't trust me,--and I should spoil
their plans."
"They certainly wouldn't trust you,--or any other human being. You
don't mind a horse that baulks a little, do you?"
"I'm not going to hunt, Chiltern."
"Yes, you are. I've got it all arranged. Don't you be a fool, and
make us all uncomfortable. Everybody rides here;--every man, woman,
and child about the place. You shall have one of the best horses I've
got;--only you must be particular about your spurs."
"Indeed, I'd rather not.
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