“He says, 'I don't want no Bazelhursts on my place,'” added James in finality.
“Go to bed, both of you!” roared his lordship.
“Very good, sir,” in unison.
“They can get to bed without your help, I daresay, Pen,” added his lordship caustically, as she started away with them. Penelope with a rare blush and—well, one party went to luncheon while the other went to bed.
“I should like to see this terrible Mr. Shaw,” observed Penelope at table. “He 's a sort of Jack-the-Giant-Killer, I fancy.”
“He is the sort one has to meet in America,” lamented her ladyship.
“Oh, I say now,” expostulated the New York young man, wryly.
“I don't mean in good society,” she corrected, with unconscious irony.
“Oh,” said he, very much relieved.
“He's a demmed cad,” said his lordship conclusively.