hat he was "making a fuss about it all!"

And then, as he thought of the scene which has been described,
he could not quite approve of himself. He knew that he was too
self-conscious,--that he was thinking too much about his own conduct
and the conduct of others to him. The phrase had been odious to him,
but still he could not acquit himself of "making a fuss." Of one
thing only was he sure,--that a grievous calamity had befallen
him when circumstances compelled him to become the Queen's Prime
Minister.

He said nothing further to his wife till they were in London
together, and then he was tempted to caress her again, to be loving
to her, and to show her that he had forgiven her. But she was brusque
to him, as though she did not wish to be forgiven. "Cora," he said,
"do not separate yourself from me."

"Separate myself! What on earth do you mean? I have not dreamed of
such a thing." The Duchess answered him as though he had alluded to
some actual separation.

"I do not mean that. God forbid that a misfortune such as that should
ever happen! Do not disjoin yourself from me in all these troubles."

"What am I to do when you scold me? You must know pretty well by this
time that I don't like to be scolded. 'I desired you not to speak to
Mr. Sprugeon!'" As she repeated his words she imitated his manner and
voice closely. "I shouldn't dream of addressing the children with
such magnificence of anger. 'What business is it of yours?' No woman
likes that sort of thing, and I'm not sure that I am acquainted with
any woman who likes it much less than--Glencora, Duchess of Omnium."
As she said these last words in a low whisper, she curtseyed down to
the ground.

"You know how anxious I am," he began, "that you should share
everything with me,--even in politics. But in all things there must
at last be one voice that shall be the ruling voice."

"And that is to be yours,--of course."

"In such a matter as this it must be."

"And, therefore, I like to do a little business of my own behind your
back. It's human nature, and you've got to put up with it. I wish
you had a better wife. I dare say there are many who would be better.
There's the Duchess of St. Bungay who never troubles her husband
about politics, but only scolds him because the wind blows from the
east. It is just possible there might be worse."

"Oh, Glencora!"

"You had better make the best you can of your bargain and not expect
too much from her. And don't r