But at
the colonial and foreign offices in London, among the assistant
secretaries and clerks, they are hardly more than common men. All
the gingerbread is gone there. His Excellency is no more than
Jones, and the Representative or Alter Ego of Royalty mildly asks
little favours of the junior clerks.
"Lord Drummond only wants to know what you wish and it shall be
done," said Mounser Green. Lord Drummond was the Minister for
Foreign Affairs of the day. "I hope I need hardly say that we were
delighted that you accepted the offer."
"One doesn't like to refuse a step upward," said Morton; "otherwise
Patagonia isn't exactly the place one would like."
"Very good climate," said Currie. "Ladies I have known who have
gone there have enjoyed it very much."
"A little rough I suppose?"
"They didn't seem to say so. Young Bartletot took his wife out
there, just married. He liked it. There wasn't much society, but
they didn't care about that just at first"
"Ah;--I'm a single man," said Morton laughing. He was too good a
diplomate to be pumped in that simple way by such a one as
Archibald Currie.
"You'll like to see Lord Drummond. He is here and will be glad to
shake hands with you. Come into my room," Then Mounser Green led
the way into a small inner sanctum in which it may be presumed that
he really did his work.
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