"Where you going now?" he demanded, as Bill made for the door.
"Business, old dear. Cheer up."
Bill's business was in the office on the second floor. It, or she—or both—had been making a good many demands on his time. He bore them with a fortitude that made him proud of himself.
"Good morning," said Mary, looking up. "Any more names to suggest?"
"Haven't we dug up enough?"
"We should have a margin to allow for declinations. There are bound to be a few, you know. Even some of the people who accept don't come."
"I don't think of anybody else," said Bill. "You've got a whole lot of people now that I never saw or heard of."
"I'm quite proud of the list," she said. "Some of it is really distinguished. And—— Oh, by the way, Mr. Marshall. Your aunt gave me another name; you must know him, of course. Bishop Wrangell."
"What! That old dodo?"
"He's a bishop; a very old friend of your aunt's. And bishops are very exclusive. I think it's fine to have a bishop."