"Qui ça, Lord Tarkington?" the general queried again.
"You are determined to know everything, mon cher général," Lady Orange retorted playfully.
"Ah, but Mademoiselle Fairfax is such a wonderful encyclopædia of social science, and since my attention has been purposefully drawn to Aphrodite, my curiosity with regard to Vulcan must be satisfied. Mademoiselle, I beg you to tell me all about him."
"Well," Julia Fairfax resumed good-humouredly, "all I can tell you is that Jasper Tarkington is one of the few rich peers left in England; and this is all the more remarkable as his uncle, the late Lord Tarkington, was one of the poorest. Nobody seems to know where Jasper got his money. I believe that he practically owns one of the most prosperous seaside towns on the South Coast. I forget which. Anyway, he is in a position to give Rosemary just what she wants and everything that she craves for, except perhaps——"
Miss Fairfax paused and shrugged her thin shoulders. Taunted by General Naniescu, she refused to complete the sentence she had so tantalizingly left half-spoken.
"Lord Tarkington is a great friend of your country, General Naniescu," she said abruptly. "Surely you must know him?"
"Tarkington?" the general mused. "Tarkington? I ought to remember, but——"
"He was correspondent for the Daily Post at the time that your troops marched into Hungary in 1919."
"Surely you are mistaken, dear lady. Tarkington? I am sure I should remember the name. My poor misjudged country has so few friends in England I should not be likely to forget."
"Lord Tarkington only came into the title on the death of his uncle a year ago," Lady Orange condescended to explain.