"The Count and Miss Endicott?" he demanded. "What about them? Who's had the impertinence to couple their names?"
Mrs. Croydon put up her hands in pretended terror, a hundred tags of ribbon fluttering as she did so.
"Oh, don't blame me," she said. "I didn't do it. They're engaged."
Neligage regarded her with a glance of vexed and startled disfavor. Then he gave a short, scornful laugh.
"What nonsense!" he said. "Nobody could believe that."
"But it's true," put in Bradish. "Miss Wentstile herself told me that she had arranged the match, and that I might mention it."
Neligage looked at the speaker an instant with a disbelieving smile on his lip; and tossing his head went to lean his elbow on the mantel.
"Arranged!" he echoed. "Good heavens! Is this a transaction in real estate?"
"Marriage so often is, Mr. Neligage," observed Mrs. Harbinger, with a smile.
Bradish began to explain with the solemn air which he had. He was often as obtuse and matter-of-fact as an Englishman, and now took up the establishment of the truth of his news with as much gravity as if he were setting forth a point of moral doctrine. He seemed eager to prove that he had at least been entirely innocent of any deception, and that whatever he had said must be blamelessly credible.