"
"No; it's only that you didn't know me thoroughly. To tell you the
truth, that life of hiding away in London wasn't a very good thing
for me. I lived too much to myself. The half-dozen acquaintances I
had were not the kind of men to profit me. Glazzard--well,
Glazzard is an odd sort of fellow--helpful now and then, but on
the whole musty. He has no ambition, thinks it enough to doze on
among his pictures, and that kind of thing. The fact is, such
companionship has made me conceited. I want to get among my equals
and my superiors--as I shall do if I become a Member of
Parliament."
"Your equals--perhaps."
"Confound it! _Your_ influence has tended the same way. You spoil me
--make me think myself a fine fellow. I suppose one's wife ought to
talk like that--I don't dislike it, you know; but if I end by
never doing anything at all, I should be confoundedly ashamed of
myself. But the more I think of it, the better satisfied I am that a
political career is the best thing for me. You see, this is the age
of political progress--that before everything. We English are
working out our revolution in a steady and sensible way,--no
shrieking and slaughtering--we leave that to people who don't
really know what they want, and will never get much to speak of. We
go ahead soberly on the constitutional highway--with a little
hearty swearing to clear the air now and then.
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