whist with this illustrious foreign Prince often at the Travellers', and
this led to a third story; none of them too long. Then Lady Everingham
came in again, and sparkled agreeably. She, indeed, sustained throughout
dinner the principal weight of the conversation; but, as she asked
questions of everybody, all seemed to contribute. Even the voice of Mr.
Lyle, who was rather bashful, was occasionally heard in reply. Coningsby,
who had at first unintentionally taken a more leading part than he aspired
to, would have retired into the background for the rest of the dinner, but
Lady Everingham continually signalled him out for her questions, and as
she sat opposite to him, he seemed the person to whom they were
principally addressed.

At length the ladies rose to retire. A very great personage in a foreign,
but not remote country, once mentioned to the writer of these pages, that
he ascribed the superiority of the English in political life, in their
conduct of public business and practical views of affairs, in a great
measure to 'that little half-hour' that separates, after dinner, the dark
from the fair sex. The writer humbly submitted, that if the period of
disjunction were strictly limited to a 'little half-hour,' its salutary
consequences for both sexes need not be disputed, but that in England the
'little half-hour' was too apt to swell into a term of far more awful
character and duration. Lady Everingham was a disciple of the 'very little
half-hour' school; for, as she gaily followed her mother, she said to
Coningsby, whose gracious lot it was to usher them from the apartment:

'Pray do not be too long at the Board of Guardians to-day.'

These were prophetic words; for no sooner were they all again seated, than
the Duke, filling his glass and pushing the claret to Coningsby, observed,