"
"And yet you think that she will be ready to accept this oaf as her
husband to-morrow! Do you call that respect?"
"Girls do such wonderful strange things. What an impudent ass he must
be!"
"I don't see that at all. He may be an ass and yet not impudent, or
impudent and yet not an ass. Of course he has a right to speak his
mind,--and she will have a right to speak hers."
CHAPTER XIX
Something Out of the Way
The Brake hounds went out four days a week, Monday, Wednesday,
Friday, and Saturday; but the hunting party on this Saturday was very
small. None of the ladies joined in it, and when Lord Chiltern came
down to breakfast at half-past eight he met no one but Gerard Maule.
"Where's Spooner?" he asked. But neither Maule nor the servant could
answer the question. Mr. Spooner was a man who never missed a day
from the beginning of cubbing to the end of the season, and who,
when April came, could give you an account of the death of every fox
killed. Chiltern cracked his eggs, and said nothing more for the
moment, but Gerard Maule had his suspicions.
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