“Nor I, for that matter,” the Duchess agreed. “And yet, somehow or other—”
“Somehow or other?” the Duke repeated courteously.
“Well, I never altogether trust these paragons,” his wife said. “In all the ordinary affairs of life the Prince seems to reach an almost perfect standard. I sometimes wonder whether he would be as trustworthy in the big things. Nothing else you want to talk about, Ambrose?”
“Nothing at all,” the Duke said, rising to his feet. “I only wanted to make it plain that we don’t require a house party next week.”
“I shan’t ask a soul,” the Duchess answered. “Do you mind ringing the bell as you pass? I’ll have Miss Smith back again and send these letters off.”
“Good!” the Duke declared. “I’m going down to the House, but I don’t suppose there’ll be anything doing. By the bye, we shall have to be a little feudal next week. Japan is a country of many ceremonies, and, after all, Maiyo is one of the Royal Family. I have written Perkins, to stir him up a little.”
The Duke drove down to the House, but called first in Downing Street. He found the Prime Minister anxious to see him.
“You’ve arranged about Maiyo coming down to you next week?” he asked.
“That’s all right,” the Duke answered. “He is coming, for certain. One good thing about that young man—he never breaks an engagement.”
The Prime Minister consulted a calendar which lay open before him.