“You do me wrong in imagining (as I perceive you do) that my reason for being solicitous for your having that place, was in view of spending more money than we do.  You have no cause of fancying me capable of such a thought.  I don’t doubt but Lord H[alifa]x will very soon have the Staff, and it is my belief you will not be at all the richer:  but I think it looks well, and may facilitate your election; and that is all the advantage I hope from it.  When all your intimate acquaintance are preferred, I think you would have an ill air in having nothing; upon that account only, I am sorry so many considerable places are disposed on [sic].  I suppose, now, you will certainly be chose somewhere or other; and I cannot see why you should not pretend to be Speaker.  I believe all the Whigs would be for you, and I fancy you have a considerable interest amongst the Tories, and for that reason would be very likely to carry it.  ’Tis impossible for me to judge of this so well as you can do; but the reputation of being thoroughly of no party, is (I think) of use in this affair, and I believe people generally esteem you impartial; and being chose by your country is more honourable than holding any place from any king.”

The relations between Lady Mary and her husband did not improve.  Not only did he neglect to write to her when he left her in the country, but he does not at any time appear to have had any desire to have her with him in town.  Lady Mary showed extreme, in fact overmuch, forbearance, but towards the end of November her patience gave out:  “I cannot forbear any longer telling you, I think you use me very unkindly.”

“I don’t say so much of your absence, as I should do if you was in the country and I in London; because I would not have you believe I am impatient to be in town, when I say I am impatient to be with you; but I am very sensible I parted with you in July and ’tis now the middle of November,” she went on to say.  “As if this was not hardship enough, you do not tell me you are sorry for it.  You write seldom, and with so much indifference as shews you hardly think of me at all.  I complain of ill health, and you only say you hope ’tis not so bad as I make it.  You never enquire after your child.  I would fain flatter myself you have more kindness for me and him than you express; but I reflect with grief a man that is ashamed of passions that are natural and reasonable, is generally proud of those that [are] shameful and silly.”

Lady Mary, once having given vent to her feeling of injustice, was not concerned to mince her words:  “You seem perfectly pleased with our separation, and indifferent how long it continues....  When I reflect on your behaviour, I am ashamed of my own:  I think I am playing the part of my Lady Winchester.  At least be as generous as My Lord; and as he made early confession of his aversion, own to me your inconstancy, and upon my word I will give you no more trouble about it....  For my part, as ’tis my first, this is my last complaint, and your next of the kind shall go back enclosed to you in blank paper.”