"No black sheep in your family?" said Mark. Lady Randolph, who was near, smiled.
"Black sheep? Never! Dear me! Who is that? Oh, Harry Kirtling. What a nice-looking young fellow! One guesses why he is here. Our dear Admiral is anxious to see a coronet on his niece's head. Don't move, Mark! Ah! there is Lady Valence and her blind husband. Do tell me—I am so short-sighted—who is that very common young man with them? What? Oh, oh, indeed! The Duke of Brecon! I must say a word to dear Lady Valence."
She bustled across the room. Mark turned to Lady Randolph.
"Have you any m-m-mint s-sauce? There is s-something about all the Lambs which——"
"Does not bring out our great qualities," said Lady Randolph. "See! She has put the Duke to rout, and he is going to take refuge with me."
Mark glanced up, noting that the Duke's feet were flat and turned out at an absurd angle, giving him a shuffling and awkward gait.
"He is a better fellow than he looks," whispered Lady Randolph.
"Will you do me a favour, Lady Randolph?" The Duke's voice was very pleasant. "Perhaps you can guess the nature of it?"
"An introduction to Miss Kirtling, of course."
"Of course," he repeated, laughing.