"Charming," said the Prince; "that is worthy of Lady Chesterford. And higher praise—"
"Go on about duelling," said Dodo, unceremoniously.
"The old system was no satisfaction, because the quarrel was not about who was the better shot. Duelling is now strictly decided by merit. Two men quarrel about a woman. They both make love to her; in other words, they both try to cut each other's throats, and one succeeds. It is far more sensible. Pistols are stupid bull-headed weapons. Words are much finer. They are exquisite sharp daggers. There is no unnecessary noise or smoke, and they are quite orderly."
"Are those the weapons you would fight Lord Chesterford with, if Dodo told you to?" asked Edith, who was growing uneasy.
The Prince, as Dodo once said, never made a fool of himself. It was a position in which it was extremely easy for a stupid man to say something very awkward. Lady Grantham, with all her talent for asking inconvenient questions, could not have formed a more unpleasant one. He looked across at Dodo a moment, and said, without a perceptible pause,—
"If I ever was the challenger of Lady Chesterford's husband, the receiver of the challenge has the right to choose the weapons."
The words startled Dodo somehow. She looked up and met his eye.
"Your system is no better than the old one," she said. "Words become the weapons instead of pistols, and the man who is most skilful with words has the same advantage as the good shot. You are not quarrelling about words, but about a woman."
"But words are the expression of what a man is," said the Prince. "You are pitting merit against merit."
Dodo rose and began to laugh.