"Immediately—I shall have a party for Whitsuntide, if you will honour me by acting hostess."
"All right—if I may bring my personnel with me—a large order! I can't stand the racket without Stirling and James and Harmon, my chauffeur—and Miss Bush."
"All are perfectly welcome—especially Miss Bush. She appeared an extremely clever girl when I had the pleasure of talking to her."
"Yes, she is a wonderful creature. I am thinking of marrying her off to Sir John Townly."
The Duke leaned forward, his voice was quite shocked.
"How inhuman, Seraphim! John Townly must be sixty, at least."
"My dear Mordryn, that is only seven years older than you are, and I look upon you as hardly yet at the prime of life—and beggars cannot be choosers, the girl is of no family. Neither for that matter is Sir John. It will be suitable in every way——I suppose you will let me have a say as to the guests for the Whitsuntide outbreak, eh?"
"Naturally—but spare me any too overmodern widows, or any further breakers in of my sensibilities!"
Seraphim laughed, and they set about making the list.
But when the Duke had gone to dress, she looked long into the fire, something a little sentimental and yet satisfied in her gaze.