"She told me this morning that the instant I felt I couldn't stand the old lady any longer, she'd give me a job on the spot. As a matter-of-fact, she went so far as to say she'd be willing to pay me more money if I felt the slightest inclination to leave my present position at once."
The Marchioness smiled faintly. "No other recommendation necessary, eh?"
"Beg pardon?"
"In other words, she is willing to accept you at your face value."
"I daresay I have a competent face," he acknowledged, his smile broadening into a grin.
"Designed especially for women," said she.
He coloured. "Oh, I say, that's a bit rough."
"And thoroughly approved by men," she added.
"That's better," he said. "I'm not a ladies' man, you know,—thank God." His face clouded. "Is Lady Jane ill?"
"Apparently not. She merely telephoned to say it would be impossible to come." She eyed him shrewdly. "Do you know anything about it, young man?"