"Only hunting won't be much in my line."
"And will you leave London altogether?" Violet asked.
"Altogether. I shall stick to one club,--Brooks's; but I shall take
my name off all the others."
"What a deuce of a nuisance!" said Lord Chiltern.
"I have no doubt you will be very happy," said Violet; "and you'll be
a Lord Chancellor in no time. But you won't go quite yet."
"Next Sunday."
"You will return. You must be here for our wedding;--indeed you must.
I will not be married unless you do."
Even this, however, was impossible. He must go on Sunday, and must
return no more. Then he made his little farewell speech, which he
could not deliver without some awkward stuttering. He would think of
her on the day of her marriage, and pray that she might be happy. And
he would send her a little trifle before he went, which he hoped she
would wear in remembrance of their old friendship.
"She shall wear it, whatever it is, or I'll know the reason why,"
said Chiltern.
"Hold your tongue, you rough bear!" said Violet. "Of course I'll
wear it. And of course I'll think of the giver. I shall have many
presents, but few that I will think of so much." Then Phineas left
the room, with his throat so full that he could not speak another
word.
"He is still broken-hearted about you," said the favoured lover as
soon as his rival had left the room.
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