At last the statesman spoke.
"Why ?" he asked.
His visitor sank back in his chair relieved.

He had put all his hopes in the other's common-sense.
It had never failed Mr.Labouchere, and now it promised not to fail Andrew.
"I am anxious to explain that," the young man said glibly.

"If you can look at yourself with the same eyes with which you see other people, it won't take long.

Make a looking-glass of me, and it is done.
"You have now reached a high position in the worlds of politics and literature, to which you have cut your way unaided.
"You are a great satirist, combining instruction with amusement, a sort of comic Carlyle.
"You hate shams so much that if man had been constructed for it I dare say you would kick at yourself.
"You have your enemies, but the very persons who blunt their weapons on you do you the honour of sharpening them on 'Truth.' In short, you have reached the summit of your fame, and you are too keen a man of the world not to know that fame is a touch-and-go thing." Andrew paused.
"Go on," said Mr.Labouchere.
"Well, you have now got fame, honour, everything for which it is legitimate in man to strive.
"So far back as I can remember, you have had the world laughing with you.

But you know what human nature is.
"There comes a morning to all wits, when their public wakes to find them bores.