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Updated: June 16, 2025
The air seemed full of the strange name. Lewis saw again Wratislaw's wrinkled face when he talked of him, and remembered his words. "You were within an ace of meeting one of the cleverest men living, a cheerful being in whom the Foreign Office is more interested than in any one else in the world." Wratislaw had never been in the habit of talking without good authority.
Haystoun at the Embassy in Paris within a week for the discussion of a particular question. The next evening Wratislaw drove in a hired dogcart up Glenavelin from Gledsmuir just as a stormy autumn twilight was setting in over the bare fields. A wild back-end had followed on the tracks of a marvellous summer.
"It means that if Wratislaw's party get back with a majority after August, and if Wratislaw gets the under-secretaryship as most people expect, then, with his chief in the Lords, he will be rather an important figure in the Commons." "And I suppose his work will be pretty lively," said George.
So we returned in triumph to our old course; when suddenly a wild boar, with its hopeful family, rushed across our path. Away we all went in chase of the poor animals. Count Wratislaw succeeded in cutting down one of the young ones with his sabre, and it was solemnly delivered up to the cook.
You are a youngish man for a Minister, for all your elderly manners." Wratislaw smiled the pleased smile of the man who hears kind words from one whom he admires. "It won't be a bed of roses, you know. I am very unpopular, and I have the grace to know it." The elder man looked on the younger with an air of kindly wisdom. "Your pride may have a fall, my dear fellow.
"You think it an error?" said Lewis, with such an air of relief that George began to laugh and Wratislaw looked comically suspicious. "Why the tone of joy, Lewie?" "I wanted your opinion," said the perjured young man. "I thought of writing a book. But that is not the thing I was talking about. I want to be normal, aggressively normal, to court the suffrages of Gledsmuir. Do you know Stocks?"
The king was too suspicious to sign the letter written in his name to the President of the French Republic. In all probability he was unwilling to let the President have his sign manual, for of course M. Carnot would have no hesitation in bewitching him by its means. Keightley, p. 121, quoting from Thiele; Thorpe, vol. iii. p. 155. Campbell, vol. iii. p. 403; Mac Innes, p. 211; Wratislaw, p. 314.
His own people had forsaken him for a gross and unlikely substitute, and he had been wrong in his estimate alike of ally and enemy. Above all came that cruelest stab what would Wratislaw think of it? He had disgraced himself in the eyes of his friend.
Wratislaw asked. "George is staying here, but he has gone over to Glenaller to a big shoot. I didn't care much about it, so I stayed at home. He will be back to-morrow." Lewis's face in the firelight seemed cheerful and wholesome enough, but his words belied it.
Arthur and Wratislaw lay, like townsmen, prone on their faces with limbs rigidly straight. Lewis and George old campaigners both lay a little on the side, arms lying loosely, and knees a little bent. But one and all gasped, and swore softly at the weather. "Turn round, Tommy," said George, glancing up, "or you'll get sunstroke at the back of the neck. I've had it twice, so I ought to know.
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