"I'm sure I think seriously enough, Lionel. Have you spoken to the Duke? No? I wish you would."
"To-morrow. This is Christmas Day, remember."
"As if I could forget, with all the nonsense that's going on here," retorted Lady Jim, glancing superciliously round at the decorations. "Every one is overdoing the brotherly business. I quite expected my maid to tell me that she loved me. And I don't see why you shouldn't ask the Duke to-day. You'll squeeze the money out of him the more easily while he's got this Christmassy emotion on."
"I don't squeeze money out of people," said Kaimes, stiffly.
"What a large income you must have, then."
"I live within it."
"That's nothing to boast of. I'd live within mine, if I had ten thousand a year."
"I doubt it," replied Lionel, who could not help laughing at her coolness; "you'd spend fifty thousand if you had it."
"Rather--if I were the Duchess of Pentland. But there's no chance of such luck. Frith's too healthy. Do smile again, Lionel--you've got such nice teeth, and look quite a good sort when you let yourself go."
"What am I to smile at?" asked the curate, with deliberate austerity.