I knew that in one respect my sister Agatha was
right. These good folks who shied now at the stains of murder with which
my reputation was soiled would in time get used to them and eventually
forget them altogether. But I reflected that I should not forget, and
I determined that I should not be admitted on sufferance, as at first
I should have to be admitted, into any man's club or any woman's
drawing-room.
One day Colonel Ellerton, Maisie Ellerton's father, called on me. He
used to be my very good friend; we sat on the same side of the House and
voted together on innumerable occasions in perfect sympathy and common
lack of conviction. He was cordial enough, congratulated me on my
marvellous restoration to health, deplored my absence from Parliamentary
life, and then began to talk confusedly of Russia. It took a little
perspicacity to see that something was weighing on the good man's mind;
something he had come to say and for his honest life could not get out.
His plight became more pitiable as the interview proceeded, and when he
rose to go, he grew as red as a turkey-cock and began to sputter.
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