"Go and tell her so," snapped Mrs. Penworthy, colouring angrily.
"You wouldn't like it."
"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," remarked the lady, fervently hating him for his stupidity, "than to see her dancing on you, as she does on all men who are foolish enough to make themselves carpets."
"I'm not a carpet."
"No! You're a tame cat."
"Then come and play Puss in the Corner," urged Algy, gaily, and Mrs. Penworthy consented, as this game had nothing to do with abnormal slippers.
Leah, pleased at having snubbed Mrs. Penworthy, whom she considered quite an improper person, went to look for Jim in his room. He was there, sure enough, lying on the sofa with the novel tossed carelessly on the floor, and a black pipe between his lips. Evidently he had not heard the good news.
"Jim," cried Leah, breathlessly, "the Duke will part."
"He has parted," growled Jim, swinging his long legs on to the floor and producing a cheque. "Look at that."
Lady Jim did. It was for two hundred pounds. "Oh!" She crushed it in her two hands, as though she were throttling his Grace. "What an insult!"