I should have been angry if any one else had said this. But there is something so adorable about Lady Tilchester she can say anything.
"You are quite mistaken. I have only seen the Duke at your house," I said, smiling, "and a man cannot get in love on so short an acquaintance, can he?—besides, my being only just married."
"I suppose you have not an idea how beautiful you are, dear," she said, kindly. "Much as I like you, I almost wish you were not staying here now."
"I promise I will do my best to encourage the Duke to marry Miss Trumpet, if you wish it," I said, "I think he knows it is a necessity from what he said to me."
"Then I shall carry you up-stairs this afternoon out of harm's way," she said, with her exquisite smile. "Berty always gives me a dear little sitting-room next my room, and we can have a regular school-girls' chat over the fire."
Nothing could have pleased me better. I would rather talk to this dear lady than any Duke in the world.
After lunch some introductions were gone through.
"Now I am proud to be presented to you," said the aunt to Lady Tilchester, with perfect composure. "We have heard a great deal of you in our country, and my niece, Miss Trumpet, has always had the greatest admiration for your photograph."
The niece, meanwhile, talked to me.
There is something so fresh and engaging about her that in a few moments one almost forgot her terrible voice.