“I do not care what Mr. Kennedy may think.”

“Why do you say that, Mr. Finn?  That is not courteous.”

“Simply because I care so much what Mr. Kennedy’s wife may think.  Your opinion is all in all to me,—­only that I know you are too kind to me.”

“He would not be too kind to you.  He is never too kind to any one.  He is justice itself.”

Phineas, as he heard the tones of her voice, could not but feel that there was in Lady Laura’s words something of an accusation against her husband.

“I hate justice,” said Phineas.  “I know that justice would condemn me.  But love and friendship know nothing of justice.  The value of love is that it overlooks faults, and forgives even crimes.”

“I, at any rate,” said Lady Laura, “will forgive the crime of your silence in the House.  My strong belief in your success will not be in the least affected by what you tell me of your failure to-night.  You must await another opportunity; and, if possible, you should be less anxious as to your own performance.  There is Violet.”  As Lady Laura spoke the last words, there was a sound of a carriage stopping in the street, and the front door was immediately opened.  “She is staying here, but has been dining with her uncle, Admiral Effingham.”  Then Violet Effingham entered the room, rolled up in pretty white furs, and silk cloaks, and lace shawls.  “Here is Mr. Finn, come to tell us of the debate about the ballot.”

“I don’t care twopence about the ballot,” said Violet, as she put out her hand to Phineas.  “Are we going to have a new iron fleet built?  That’s the question.”

“Sir Simeon has come out strong to-night,” said Lady Laura.

“There is no political question of any importance except the question of the iron fleet,” said Violet.  “I am quite sure of that, and so, if Mr. Finn can tell me nothing about the iron fleet, I’ll go to bed.”

“Mr. Kennedy will tell you everything when he comes home,” said Phineas.

“Oh, Mr. Kennedy!  Mr. Kennedy never tells one anything.  I doubt whether Mr. Kennedy thinks that any woman knows the meaning of the British Constitution.”

“Do you know what it means, Violet?” asked Lady Laura.

“To be sure I do.  It is liberty to growl about the iron fleet, or the ballot, or the taxes, or the peers, or the bishops,—­or anything else, except the House of Commons.  That’s the British Constitution.  Good-night, Mr. Finn.”

“What a beautiful creature she is!” said Phineas.

“Yes, indeed,” said Lady Laura.

“And full of wit and grace and pleasantness.  I do not wonder at your brother’s choice.”

It will be remembered that this was said on the day before Lord Chiltern had made his offer for the third time.

“Poor Oswald! he does not know as yet that she is in town.”

After that Phineas went, not wishing to await the return of Mr. Kennedy.  He had felt that Violet Effingham had come into the room just in time to remedy a great difficulty.  He did not wish to speak of his love to a married woman,—­to the wife of the man who called him friend,—­to a woman who he felt sure would have rebuked him.  But he could hardly have restrained himself had not Miss Effingham been there.