“I shall be off to-morrow morning by the early train,” said Phineas.

“So soon;—­and when will you have to begin,—­in Parliament, I mean?”

“I shall have to take my seat on Friday.  I’m going back just in time.”

“But when shall we hear of your saying something?”

“Never, probably.  Not one in ten who go into Parliament ever do say anything.”

“But you will; won’t you?  I hope you will.  I do so hope you will distinguish yourself;—­because of your sister, and for the sake of the town, you know.”

“And is that all, Mary?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“You don’t care a bit about myself, then?”

“You know that I do.  Haven’t we been friends ever since we were children?  Of course it will be a great pride to me that a person whom I have known so intimately should come to be talked about as a great man.”

“I shall never be talked about as a great man.”

“You’re a great man to me already, being in Parliament.  Only think;—­I never saw a member of Parliament in my life before.”

“You’ve seen the bishop scores of times.”

“Is he in Parliament?  Ah, but not like you.  He couldn’t come to be a Cabinet Minister, and one never reads anything about him in the newspapers.  I shall expect to see your name, very often, and I shall always look for it.  ‘Mr. Phineas Finn paired off with Mr. Mildmay.’  What is the meaning of pairing off?”

“I’ll explain it all to you when I come back, after learning my lesson.”

“Mind you do come back.  But I don’t suppose you ever will.  You will be going somewhere to see Lady Laura Standish when you are not wanted in Parliament.”

“Lady Laura Standish!”

“And why shouldn’t you?  Of course, with your prospects, you should go as much as possible among people of that sort.  Is Lady Laura very pretty?”

“She’s about six feet high.”

“Nonsense.  I don’t believe that.”

“She would look as though she were, standing by you.”

“Because I am so insignificant and small.”

“Because your figure is perfect, and because she is straggling.  She is as unlike you as possible in everything.  She has thick lumpy red hair, while yours is all silk and softness.  She has large hands and feet, and—­”

“Why, Phineas, you are making her out to be an ogress, and yet I know that you admire her.”

“So I do, because she possesses such an appearance of power.  And after all, in spite of the lumpy hair, and in spite of large hands and straggling figure, she is handsome.  One can’t tell what it is.  One can see that she is quite contented with herself, and intends to make others contented with her.  And so she does.”

“I see you are in love with her, Phineas.”

“No; not in love,—­not with her at least.  Of all men in the world, I suppose that I am the last that has a right to be in love.  I daresay I shall marry some day.”