For three days Mr. Palliser was
at Matching, and he duly visited his uncle twice a day. But not a
syllable was ever said between them beyond the ordinary words of
compliments. Mr. Palliser spent his time with his private secretary,
working out endless sums and toiling for unapproachable results in
reference to decimal coinage. To him his uncle's death would be a
great blow, as in his eyes to be Chancellor of the Exchequer was much
more than to be Duke of Omnium. For herself Lady Glencora was nearly
equally indifferent, though she did in her heart of hearts wish that
her son should go to Eton with the title of Lord Silverbridge.
On the third morning the Duke suddenly asked a question of Madame
Goesler. The two were again sitting near to each other, and the Duke
was again holding her hand; but Lady Glencora was also in the room.
"Have you not been staying with Lord Chiltern?"
"Yes, Duke."
"He is a friend of yours."
"I used to know his wife before they were married."
"Why does he go on writing me letters about a wood?" This he asked in
a wailing voice, as though he were almost weeping.
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