“Is that at the top?”
“Yes.”
“Before Rose Stella?”
“Yes. Why!—I didnt notice it before—you are down fifteen times! Every alternate space has your name over again. ‘Lalage Virtue as Madame Dubarry. Fred Smith as Louis XV. Lalage Virtue as the Dubarry. Felix Sumner as the Due de Richelieu. Lalage Virtue as la belle Jeanneton.’ By the way, that is all rot. Cardinal Richelieu died four or five hundred years before Madame Dubarry was born.”
“Let me see the paper. I see they have given Rose Stella the last line with a big AND before it. No matter. She is down only once; and I am down fifteen times.”
“I wonder what all these letters of mine are about! This is a bill, of course. The West Kensington Wine Company. Whew! We are getting through the champagne at the rate of about thirty pounds a month, not counting what we pay for when we dine in town.”
“Well, what matter! Champagne does nobody any harm; and I get awfully low without it.”
“All right, my dear. So long as you please yourself, and dont injure your health, I dont care. Here’s a letter of yours put among mine by mistake. It has been forwarded from your old diggings at Lambeth.”
“It’s from Ned,” said Susanna, turning pale. “He must be coming home, or he would not write. Yes, he is. What shall I do?”
“What does he say?” said Marmaduke, taking the letter from her. “‘Back at 6 on Wednesday evening. Have high tea. N.C.’ Short and sweet! Well, he will not turn up til to-morrow, at all events, even if he knows the address, which of course he doesnt.”