"And when they know?" said poor Penelope.
"I wonder if I ought not to sacrifice him and myself on the altar of duty?" said Pen. But she was in love, and the motor-car in which she was to disappear stood ready. She made weekly trips in it with Bob. Sometimes they stayed away for three days, sometimes even for a week.
"Oh, Bob, I'm so unhappy: so happy," said Pen.
And Bob looked at her critically.
"Well, you look stunning, anyhow," he replied, "you get better looking every day, Pen. Old De Vere said so. He let on that you were a cross between a lily and a rose, or some such rot. You mark me, Pen, he'll go back to poetry if you marry him, and give up dogs. I don't want him to do that. Baker has some pups coming on, a new kind of very savage dog, and I'm halves in 'em. Can't you give me a tip as to whether it's De Vere? If it is, I'll sell him one now, cheap."
But Pen looked beautiful and kept her mouth shut. Neither Bob nor Titania nor Bradstock could extract a word from her. And, nevertheless, the whole world grew suspicious. The society papers said she had made her choice. The sporting papers gave tips. They said, "For the Lady Penelope Stakes we give Plant or Bramber," or at least one of them did. Others selected De Vere, and one rude man said a rank outsider would get it. Of course he didn't believe in Pen's word. But then, no one did.
And still Pen kept her teeth shut and was as obstinate as a government mule to all persuasion. Ethel cried and said:
"Oh, is it Captain Goby?"
Chloe laughed and laid traps for Penelope saying:
"Oh, by the way, I saw Lord Bramber just now."