"I know nothing
of Lord Chiltern. Why does he write to me about the wood? I wish he
wouldn't write to me."
"He does not know that you are ill, Duke. By-the-bye, I promised to
speak to Lady Glencora about it. He says that foxes are poisoned at
Trumpeton Wood."
"I don't believe a word of it," said the Duke. "No one would poison
foxes in my wood. I wish you'd see about it, Glencora. Plantagenet
will never attend to anything. But he shouldn't write to me. He ought
to know better than to write letters to me. I will not have people
writing letters to me. Why don't they write to Fothergill?" and then
the Duke began in truth to whimper.
"I'll put it all right," said Lady Glencora.
"I wish you would. I don't like them to say there are no foxes; and
Plantagenet never will attend to anything." The wife had long since
ceased to take the husband's part when accusations such as this were
brought against him. Nothing could make Mr. Palliser think it worth
his while to give up any shred of his time to such a matter as the
preservation of foxes.
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