But I do think, Penelope," she continued, "that I shall
have to talk to you a little seriously. There's the best-looking
and richest young bachelor in London dying to marry you, and you
won't have a word to say to him. On the other hand, after
starting by disliking him heartily, you are making yourself
almost conspicuous with this fascinating young Oriental. I admit
that he is delightful, my dear Penelope, but I think you should
ask yourself whether it is quite worth while. Prince Maiyo may
take home with him many Western treasures, but I do not think
that he will take home a wife."
"If you say another word to me, aunt," Penelope exclaimed, "I
shall shriek!"
The Duchess, being a woman of tact, laughed the subject away and
pretended not to notice Penelope's real distress. But when they
had reached Devenham House, she went to the telephone and called
up Somerfield.
"Charlie," she said,--
"Right o'!" he interrupted. "Who is it?"
"Be careful what you are saying," she continued, "because it
isn't any one who wants you to take them out to supper."
"I only wish you did," he answered. "It's the Duchess, isn't it?"
"The worst of having a distinctive voice," she sighed. "Listen. I
want to speak to you."
"I am listening hard," Somerfield answered. "Hold the instrument
a little further away from you,--that's better."
"We have been to the Prince's for tea this afternoon--Penelope
and I," she said.
"I know," he assented.
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