to think that the duel was in very truth the best way out of the difficulty.  It was a bad way out, but then it was a way;—­and he could not see any other.  “As for ill treating him, that’s nonsense,” said Laurence.  “What are the girls to do, if one fellow mayn’t come on as soon as another fellow is down?  But then, you see, a fellow never knows when he’s down himself, and therefore he thinks that he’s ill used.  I’ll tell you what now.  I shouldn’t wonder if we couldn’t do it on the sly,—­unless one of you is stupid enough to hit the other in an awkward place.  If you are certain of your hand now, the right shoulder is the best spot.”  Phineas felt very certain that he would not hit Lord Chiltern in an awkward place, although he was by no means sure of his hand.  Let come what might, he would not aim at his adversary.  But of this he had thought it proper to say nothing to Laurence Fitzgibbon.

And the duel did come off on the sly.  The meeting in the drawing-room in Portman Square, of which mention was made in the last chapter, took place on a Wednesday afternoon.  On the Thursday, Friday, Monday, and Tuesday following, the great debate on Mr. Mildmay’s bill was continued, and at three on the Tuesday night the House divided.  There was a majority in favour of the Ministers, not large enough to permit them to claim a triumph for their party, or even an ovation for themselves; but still sufficient to enable them to send their bill into committee.  Mr. Daubeny and Mr. Turnbull had again joined their forces together in opposition to the ministerial measure.  On the Thursday Phineas had shown himself in the House, but during the remainder of this interesting period he was absent from his place, nor was he seen at the clubs, nor did any man know of his whereabouts.  I think that Lady Laura Kennedy was the first to miss him with any real sense of his absence.  She would now go to Portman Square on the afternoon of every Sunday,—­at which time her husband was attending the second service of his church,—­and there she would receive those whom she called her father’s guests.  But as her father was never there on the Sundays, and as these gatherings had been created by herself, the reader will probably think that she was obeying her husband’s behests in regard to the Sabbath after a very indifferent fashion.  The reader may be quite sure, however, that Mr. Kennedy knew well what was being done in Portman Square.  Whatever might be Lady Laura’s faults, she did not commit the fault of disobeying her husband in secret.  There were, probably, a few words on the subject; but we need not go very closely into that matter at the present moment.