"In your next scene," she explained.
"Oh," said Loveland, relieved. "Am I—er—a lord?"
"Yes. Didn't Jacobus tell you? But perhaps he thought it didn't matter."
"It doesn't seem to," retorted Val, smiling faintly at his own hidden meaning.
"You're supposed to be the son of the Duke of Highgate. Pa Winter's the Duke, you know. Of course, though, you haven't seen the whole play yet—only your own scenes, so you can't keep track of everything. You only have to walk on; or rather waltz on with Miss Moon, you know; and when she goes off, and I come on in girl's clothes again, you must say, "The next is mine, I believe," with an English drawl. But the part's down on the program as 'Lord William Vane.'"
"By Jove, I know Willy Vane. He's in the Black Wa——" began Loveland, but he bit his lip and broke off abruptly.
The Human Flower laughed. "I don't suppose your friend's a lord, though!"
Loveland did not reply, as the choice lay between a fib and an affirmative.
"You ought to know how lords behave, more than any of us," went on the girl, "as you're an Englishman. I suppose you've seen some?"
"Yes, a few," said Val cautiously.