"And you?" said Sir Wilfrid, as they seated themselves almost side by
side at the large, round table in the large, dingy room.

The old lady shook her head.

"All the world eats too much. I was brought up with people who lunched
on a biscuit and a glass of sherry."

"Lord Russell?--Lord Palmerston?" suggested Sir Wilfrid, attacking his
own lunch meanwhile with unabashed vigor.

"That sort. I wish we had their like now."

"Their successors don't please you?"

Lady Henry shook her head.

"The Tories have gone to the deuce, and there are no longer enough Whigs
even to do that. I wouldn't read the newspapers at all if I could help
it. But I do."

"So I understand," said Sir Wilfrid; "you let Montresor know it last
night."

"Montresor!" said Lady Henry, with a contemptuous movement. "What a
_poseur_! He lets the army go to ruin, I understand, while he joins
Dante societies."

Sir Wilfrid raised his eyebrows.