"
"You'll get over it, Mr. Spooner."
"Get over it! I suppose I shall; but I shall never be as I was. I've
been always thinking of the day when there must be a lady at Spoon
Hall, and putting it off, you know. There'll never be a lady there
now;--never. You don't think there's any chance at all?"
"I'm sure there is none."
"I'd give half I've got in all the world," said the wretched man,
"just to get it out of my head. I know what it will come to." Though
he paused, Lady Chiltern could ask no question respecting Mr.
Spooner's future prospects. "It'll be two bottles of champagne at
dinner, and two bottles of claret afterwards, every day. I only hope
she'll know that she did it. Good-bye, Lady Chiltern. I thought that
perhaps you'd have helped me."
"I cannot help you."
"Good-bye." So he went down to his trap, and drove himself violently
home,--without, however, achieving the ruin which he desired. Let
us hope that as time cures his wound that threat as to increased
consumption of wine may fall to the ground unfulfilled.
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