"Marmaduke, don't you think I am looking very nice?" I say naively.
"Very, darling. You always look that."
This general praise disappoints me. Whatever an infatuated person may have chosen to consider me in the time past, I am satisfied that at the present moment I really am worthy of admiration.
"But you cannot have seen my dress," I persist; "it came all the way from London: and we all think it so pretty. Look at it, Marmaduke."
He turns his head willingly in my direction, but his gaze gets little farther than my face.
"It is charming," he says, with enthusiasm. "That pale green suits you tremendously."
"Pale-green!" and I am all faintest azure. I break into a merry laugh, and give him an imperceptible shake.
"Green, you ridiculous boy! Why, there is not a particle of green about me. I am nothing but pink and blue. Do look at me again, Marmaduke, or I shall die of chagrin."
"Well, it was the blue I meant," declares my lover, composedly. "Then, come with me to the other side, Phyllis: I want to introduce you to Lady Alicia Slate-Gore."
"Lady Alicia!" I gasp, awestruck. "Is—is the duke here?"