"I?"
"Yes, you; you dear old stupid!"
"Who on earth is Lord Wallace Marwick, or whatever his name is?"
"Bishop's hired man!"
"Wallace?"
"Wallace, our club professional!"
"And his bride is—?"
"Can you not guess?" she exclaimed.
"Miss Olive Lawrence," I hazarded.
"Really, Jack, you are improving. Two weeks from this noon Bishop's hired man, Lord Wallace Marwick, will be united in marriage with Olive Lawrence!"