“To be sure—quite right—under the circumstances.”
“Stupid! I broke three of his ribs.”
“My Gawd!”
“Not so amazing after all,” said Verbeena with a glint of boyish pride.
“And he—since—he——?”
“At three-thirty one and a half by my wrist watch—the only piece of jewelry, by the way, you’ve left me—I received, Lord Tawdry, this communication from the hospital cot of the Honorable Bertram Butternut!”
Out of the hip pocket of her smart riding breeches, Verbeena flashed a paper on her brother.
THE HONORABLE BERTIE BUTTERNUT, WHOSE PASSION WAS CRUSHED WITH HIS RIBS.