The Marquis received the information with no signs of particular interest. Letitia stretched out for a cigarette, lit it and looked a little appealingly at her father.
"Dad," she said, "I've made an awful idiot of myself."
"In what direction?" the Marquis enquired sympathetically. "If it is a financial matter, I am fortunately—"
"Worse!" Letitia groaned. "I've promised to marry Charlie Grantham."
The Marquis stretched out his long, elegant hand and patted his daughter's.
"But, my dear child," he said, "surely that was inevitable, was it not? I have looked upon it as almost certain to happen some day."
"Well, I'm rather glad you take it like that," Letitia remarked. "Now I come to think of it, I suppose I should have had to say 'yes' sometime or another."
"Where is Charlie?"
"Gone home in a huff, because I wouldn't let him kiss me in the car or bring him in with me."
"Either course would surely have been usual," the Marquis ventured.