“Heavens! Disgusting!”
“The richest young man ‘west of some river or other.’ At any rate he told me last night that it was ‘clean money.’ I dare say the river is responsible for its cleanliness, but that fact seemed to give him satisfaction.”
The duchess was leaning on the table at Lady Galorey’s side.
“Dan’s father took Gordon all over the West that time he went to the States for a big hunt in the Rockies. He got to know Mr. Blair awfully well and liked him. The old gentleman bought a little property about that time that turned out to be a gold mine.”
With persistency the duchess said:
“How d’you know it is ‘clean money,’ Edith? Not that it makes a rap of difference,” she laughed prettily, “but how do you know that he is rich to this horrible extent?”
Lady Galorey put down her address book impatiently: “Does he look like an impostor?”
The other returned: “Even the archangel fell, my dear Edith!”
“Well,” returned her friend, “this one is too young to have fallen far,” and she shut up her list in desperation.
The duchess sat down on the edge of the lounge and raised her expressive eyes to Lady Galorey, who once more looked at her sarcastically, and went on: