Where's
your great coat, sir? I'll brush it for you.'
The bath and the breakfast brought our hero round a good deal, and
at half-past two he stole to a solitary part of St. James's Park, to
stretch his legs and collect his senses. We must now let our readers
into a secret, which perhaps they have already unravelled. The Duke
had hurried to London with the determination, not only of attending the
debate, but of participating in it. His Grace was no politician; but the
question at issue was one simple in its nature and so domestic in its
spirit, that few men could have arrived at his period of life without
having heard its merits, both too often and too amply discussed. He was
master of all the points of interest, and he had sufficient confidence
in himself to believe that he could do them justice. He walked up and
down, conning over in his mind not only the remarks which he intended
to make, but the very language in which he meant to offer them. As he
formed sentences, almost for the first time, his courage and his fancy
alike warmed: his sanguine spirit sympathised with the nobility of the
imaginary scene, and inspirited the intonations of his modulated voice.
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