He went down from the Committee Room into the House, and he dined at the House, and remained there until eight or nine at night; but Fitzgibbon did not come.  He then went to the Reform Club, but he was not there.  Both at the club and in the House many men spoke to him about the debate of the previous night, expressing surprise that he had not spoken,—­making him more and more wretched.  He saw Mr. Monk, but Mr. Monk was walking arm in arm with his colleague, Mr. Palliser, and Phineas could do no more than just speak to them.  He thought that Mr. Monk’s nod of recognition was very cold.  That might be fancy, but it certainly was a fact that Mr. Monk only nodded to him.  He would tell Mr. Monk the truth, and then, if Mr. Monk chose to quarrel with him, he at any rate would take no step to renew their friendship.

From the Reform Club he went to the Shakspeare, a smaller club to which Fitzgibbon belonged,—­and of which Phineas much wished to become a member,—­and to which he knew that his friend resorted when he wished to enjoy himself thoroughly, and to be at ease in his inn.  Men at the Shakspeare could do as they pleased.  There were no politics there, no fashion, no stiffness, and no rules,—­so men said; but that was hardly true.  Everybody called everybody by his Christian name, and members smoked all over the house.  They who did not belong to the Shakspeare thought it an Elysium upon earth; and they who did, believed it to be among Pandemoniums the most pleasant.  Phineas called at the Shakspeare, and was told by the porter that Mr. Fitzgibbon was up-stairs.  He was shown into the strangers room, and in five minutes his friend came down to him.

“I want you to come down to the Reform with me,” said Phineas.

“By jingo, my dear fellow, I’m in the middle of a rubber of whist.”

“There has been a man with me about that bill.”

“What;—­Clarkson?”

“Yes, Clarkson,” said Phineas.

“Don’t mind him,” said Fitzgibbon.

“That’s nonsense.  How am I to help minding him?  I must mind him.  He is coming to me again on Tuesday morning.”

“Don’t see him.”

“How can I help seeing him?”

“Make them say you’re not at home.”

“He has made an appointment.  He has told me that he’ll never leave me alone.  He’ll be the death of me if this is not settled.”

“It shall be settled, my dear fellow.  I’ll see about it.  I’ll see about it and write you a line.  You must excuse me now, because those fellows are waiting.  I’ll have it all arranged.”

Again as Phineas went home he thoroughly wished that he had not seceded from Mr. Low.

CHAPTER XXII

Lady Baldock at Home