“But now it is done,” smiled his Grace. “Delightful!”
“I've got there—same as they say in New York—I've got there,” said Hutchinson.
He sat down in response to Miss Alicia's invitation. His unease was wonderfully dispelled. He felt himself a person of sufficient importance to address even a duke as man to man.
“What's all this romancin' talk about th' other Temple Barholm comin' back, an' our lad knowin' an' hidin' him away? An' Palliser an' th' lawyers an' th' police bein' after 'em both?”
“You have heard the whole story?” from the duke.
“I've heard naught else since I come back.”
“Grandmother knew a great deal before we came home,” said Little Ann.
The duke turned his attention to her with an engaged smile. His look, his bow, his bearing, in the moment of their being presented to each other, had seemed to Miss Alicia the most perfect thing. His fine eye had not obviously wandered while he talked to her father, but it had in fact been taking her in with an inclusiveness not likely to miss agreeable points of detail.
“What is her opinion, may I ask?” he said. “What does she say?”
“Grandmother is very set in her ways, your Grace.” The limpidity of her blue eye and a flickering dimple added much to the quaint comprehensiveness of her answer. “She says the world's that full of fools that if they were all killed the Lord would have to begin again with a new Adam and Eve.”