And so the dinner passed on, slowly enough as Frank thought, but all too quickly for Mr Apjohn.  It passed away, and the wine came circulating freely.  The tongues again were loosed, the teeth being released from their labours, and under the influence of the claret the duke’s presence was forgotten.

But very speedily the coffee was brought.  ’This will soon be over now,’ said Frank, to himself, thankfully; for, though he be no means despised good claret, he had lost his temper too completely to enjoy it at the present moment.  But he was much mistaken; the farce as yet was only at its commencement.  The duke took his cup of coffee, and so did the few friends who sat close to him; but the beverage did not seem to be in great request with the majority of the guests.  When the duke had taken his modicum, he rose up and silently retired, saying no word and making no sign.  And then the farce commenced.

‘Now, gentlemen,’ said Mr Fothergill, cheerily, ’we are all right.  Apjohn, is there claret there?  Mr Bolus, I know you stick to the Madeira; you are quite right, for there isn’t too much of it left, and my belief is there’ll never be more like it.’

And so the duke’s hospitality went on, and the duke’s guests drank merrily for the next two hours.

‘Shan’t we see any more of him?’ asked Frank.

‘Any more of whom?’ said Mr Athill.

‘Of the duke?’

’Oh, no; you’ll see no more of him.  He always goes when the coffee comes.  It’s brought in as an excuse.  We’ve had enough of the light of his countenance to last till next year.  The duke and I are excellent friends; and have been so these fifteen years; but I never see more of him than that.’

‘I shall go away,’ said Frank.

’Nonsense.  Mr de Courcy and your other friend won’t stir for this hour yet.’

’I don’t care.  I shall walk on, and they may catch me.  I may be wrong; but it seems to me that a man insults me when he asks me to dine with him and never speaks to me.  I don’t care if he be ten times Duke of Omnium; he can’t be more than a gentleman, and as such I am his equal.’  And then, having thus given vent to his feelings in somewhat high-flown language, he walked forth and trudged away along the road towards Courcy.

Frank Gresham had been born and bred a Conservative, whereas the Duke of Omnium was well known as a consistent Whig.  There is no one so devoutly resolved to admit of no superior as your Conservative, born and bred, no one so inclined to high domestic despotism as your thoroughgoing consistent old Whig.

When he had proceeded about six miles, Frank was picked up by his friends; but even then his anger had hardly cooled.

‘Was the duke as civil as ever when you took your leave of him?’ said he to his cousin George, as he took his seat on the drag.

‘The juke was jeuced jude wine—­lem me tell you that, old fella,’ hiccupped out the Honourable George, as he touched up the leader under the flank.