“See here, you can’t talk to me that way, ye know!” he flared out. “Bah Jove, I’m offering to make you a duchess––and I love you, too, though you may not think it!”
“Of course you love me, Reginald,” said Carmen in gentle reply, now relinquishing her spirit of badinage; “and I love you. But I do not wish to marry you.”
The young man started under the shock and stared at her in utter lack of comprehension. Was it possible that this unknown girl was refusing him, a duke? She must be mad!
“A––a––I don’t get you, Miss Carmen,” he stammered.
“Come,” she said, rising and holding out a hand. “Let’s not talk about this any more. We must go back to the hall. I do love you, Reginald, but not in the way that perhaps you would like. I love the real you; not the vain, foolish, self-adoring 150 human concept, called the Duke of Altern. And the love I feel for you will help you, oh, far more than if I married you! Come.”
“But––Miss Carmen!” He stood before her with mouth open.
“Yes, Reginald.”
“I––I expected we’d be engaged––I told mother––”
“Very well, Reginald, we are engaged. Engaged in handling this little problem that has presented itself to you. Do you see? And I will help you to solve it in the right way. For you need help. Reginald dear, I didn’t mean to treat your proposal so lightly. I am sorry. There, give me your hand. We’re just awfully good friends, aren’t we? And I do love you, more than you think.”
Leaving the bewildered youth in the hall, Carmen fell afoul of the very conservative Mrs. Gannette, whose husband, suffering from a sense of nausea since the appearance of Ames as a King Vulture, had some moments before summoned his car and driven to his favorite club to flood his apprehensions with Scotch high-balls.