"Then, do you happen to know—I heard it from a fellow in Pittsburgh who has followed his meteoric career as captain of industry—do you happen to know that he makes no secret of having left England because he was so handicapped by disadvantages of birth?"
I hesitated just a moment—not in doubt as to what I should say, but as to how I should say it.
"That's all right, Guilford," I answered complacently. "If his ancestors all looked like 'gentlemen of the jury' it doesn't lessen his own dignity and grandeur."
Now, if you've never been in a circuit court room you can't appreciate the above simile, but Guilford was a lawyer.
He looked at me in a dazed fashion for an instant.
"Grace, you don't feel ill—nor anything—do you?" he asked anxiously.
"Oh, no!"
"But I can't believe that you're exactly right in your mind!"
"Well—maybe—"
"I can't believe that to-morrow morning will actually dawn and find us asunder," he kept on quickly. "It must be some sort of fantastic dream."