"Marriage certificates, my lord?" she asked roguishly.
I was about to answer "Doctors' certificates," but her last two syllables froze the words on my lips.
"You—you—know me?" I stammered.
"Yes, your lordship," with a mock bow.
"Why—how—?" I faltered. "You've only just come."
"Jones," she answered.
"Jones!" I repeated, vexed.
"Yes, my lord."
He glided up and re-filled my glass.
"Jones is a nuisance," I said, when he was out of earshot again.