Although it is summer weather, Sir Leicester always has his own particular fire in the evening. He takes his usual screened seat near it and repeats with much firmness and a little displeasure, as who should say, I am not a common man, and when I say tolerably, it must not be understood as a common expression, "Volumnia, we are doing tolerably."
"At least there is no opposition to YOU," Volumnia asserts with confidence.
"No, Volumnia. This distracted country has lost its senses in many respects, I grieve to say, but--"
"It is not so mad as that. I am glad to hear it!"
Volumnia's finishing the sentence restores her to favour. Sir Leicester, with a gracious inclination of his head, seems to say to himself, "A sensible woman this, on the whole, though occasionally precipitate."

At least there is no opposition to you," Volumnia asserts with confidence.
"No, Volumnia. This distracted country has lost its senses in many respects, I grieve to say, but-"
"It is not so mad as that. I am glad to hear it!"
On Volumnia's finishing the sentence, Sir Leicester graciously inclines his head. He seems to say to himself, "A sensible woman this."
