"Oh, he is no end of a good fellow in his way," said her brother. "Have you—a—any reason for not liking him, Vick?"
"I think he is spiteful. He says such horrid things."
"Does he? What about?" said the Duke indifferently, as he tore a bit of charred paper from the end of his cigarette, which had burned badly. She did not answer at first. He inspected the cigarette, puffed it into active life again, and looked up.
"What about, Vick?"
"About his friend—about Doctor Claudius. I like Doctor Claudius." Lady Victoria smoothed her rebellious brown hair at the huge over-gilt pier-glass of the little drawing-room which she and Margaret had in common.
"I like him too," said the Duke. "He is a gentleman. Why don't you do your hair like the American women—all fuzzy, over your eyes? I should think it would be much less trouble."
"It's not neat," said her ladyship, still looking into the glass. Then suddenly, "Do you know what I think?"
"Well?"
"I believe Mr. Barker would like to marry Margaret himself."
"Pshaw! Victoria, don't talk nonsense. Who ever heard of such a thing! The Duke rose and walked once up and down the room; then he sat down again in the same place. He was not pleased at the suggestion.