right end.

"You may be right," said Barker, with a superior air that meant "you are
certainly wrong." "But would Claudius be able to give her the position
in foreign society--"

"Society be damned," said the Duke. "Do you think the widow of Alexis
cannot command society? Besides, Claudius is a gentleman, and that is
quite enough."

"I suppose he is," said Mr. Barker, with an air of regret.

"Suppose? There is no supposing about it. He is." And the Duke looked at
his friend as if he would have said, "If I, a real, palpable, tangible,
hereditary duke, do not know a gentleman when I see one, what can _you_
possibly know about it, I would like to inquire?" And that settled the
matter.

But Mr. Barker was uneasy in his mind. An idea was at work there which
was diametrically opposed to the union of Claudius and Margaret, and day
by day, as he watched the intimacy growing back into its old
proportions, he ground his gold-filled teeth with increasing annoyance.
He sought opportunities for saying and doing things that might curtail
the length of those hours when Claudius sat at her side, ostensibly
reading. Ostensibly? Yes--the first day or two after she had allowed him
to come back to her side were days of unexampled industry and severe
routine, only the most pertinent criticisms interrupting from time to
time the even progress from line to line, from page to page, from
paragraph to paragraph, from chapter to chapter. But soon the criticism
became less close, the illustration more copious, the tongue more
eloquent, and the glance less shy. The elective strength of their two
hearts rose up and wrought mightily, saying, "We are made for each
other, we understand each other, and these foolish mortals who carry us
about in their bosoms shall not keep us apart." And to tell the truth,
the foolish mortals made very little effort. Margaret did not believe
that Claudius could possibly break his plighted word, and he knew that
he would die rather than forfeit his faith. And so they sat side by side
with the book, ostensibly reading, actually talking, most of the day.
And sometimes one or the other would go a little too near the forbidden
point, and then there was a moment's silence, and the least touch of
embarrassment; and once Margaret laughed a queer little laugh at one of
these stumbles, and once Claudius sighed. But they were very happy, and
the faint colour that was natural to the Doctor's clear white skin came
back as his