Her conduct has puzzled me greatly. It seemed like prolonging the torture before the end. For when it comes to a choice between a duke and a real-estate agent, there can be but one answer. It only remains for his Grace to make up that feeble mind of his, and my day-dream will be over. Now I am enjoying it as best I can.
As we strolled down Madison that afternoon, it seemed to me that it would likely be our last appearance together on the avenue of sentiment. We were silent. My mood was too despairing for silly prattle, and Pearl seldom speaks, and then in hardly more than monosyllables. Once I thought I would end it all there, and so let my tongue run away with me for a moment. I think I referred to the duke in ungentlemanly language. Her answer was a smile more inscrutable than ever.
That night the Duke dined with us to meet the local nobility. Of course it was informal, being Lent, and Mrs. Radigan being religious, so the dinner was set for 7.30 in accordance with the church ritual, but no one appeared until after 8. Of course his Grace took Mrs. Radigan in, and with her usual tact she had fixed Ethel Bumpschus at his right, with Pearl across the table, so the contrasts were very sharp. Artfully, too, she had exiled me to the other end, between the Countess Poglioso Spinnigini and Mrs. Bobbie Q. Williegilt. Mrs. Radigan was in high feather, with a noble to the right of her, a noble to the left of her, and champagne in front of her. Prince Cosmospopolis of Greece is a very delightful man, and as he has been in this country a long while as agent of a Sicilian olive house, he speaks English very well, and so kept the attention of Pearl Veal through the whole dinner, as Count Poglioso Spinnigini on her other hand early gave up trying to make himself understood and found consolation in his plate and glasses. Clever Mrs. Radigan! The Duke was evidently much worried by the princely olive agent's attentions to his hostess's beautiful sister. Occasionally he would turn his eyes from her to venture that something was "jolly," but for the most part he was silently gazing over the board. Once he got his courage up and tried to break up Prince Cosmospopolis's tête-à-tête by giving a loud "haw," and then: "I say, Miss Cutlet."
Naturally, there was a hush. Then everyone began talking as loud as possible, and the desperate Duke absently drained Mrs. Radigan's champagne glass to the bottom. Pearl looked my way, and I saw the corner of her mouth twitch.
Miss Bumpschus was triumphant. I could see that in her well-bred laugh. Poor young woman! She did not realize for what purpose Mrs. Radigan had been engaging her across the Duke in a long dissertation on the needs of the aged ticket-choppers. She did not know that in me a new champion had arisen in her cause. The idea of joining forces with her came to me by a sudden thought, and quick as the women had gone, and we were in the smoking-room, I got his Grace off in one corner. We are very good friends, for I have put him up at one or two clubs, besides showing him the sights of the town. Glorious were the colors in which I painted the plain Ethel. She had ten millions now in her own name, and when old Bumpschus died there was another ten coming. Better still, old Bumpschus had heart disease, and I had information that he was likely to drop off at any time. The Duke smoked up a cigarette in a minute and a half, and his lips moved as though he were working a problem in mental arithmetic. Then I intimated that Miss Veal's money was rather precariously invested, that with the present Stock Exchange quotations her fortune varied daily from one to two millions. His Grace seemed much affected.
"She's a jolly girl—a jolly, lovely girl," he said, as we were returning to the drawing-room.
"Miss Veal?" said I nonchalantly.
"She's jolly, too," he said.
But when he sat down on the sofa beside Miss Bumpschus and began to count the lights in the chandelier, I knew of whom he was thinking. A moment there only, and his gaze fell on Pearl, looking up into the face of the gallant Cosmospopolis. She glanced his way and smiled lustrously. Ethel Bumpschus was forgotten, deserted. His Grace shot across the room and secured the prized vacant place before the Prince was aware of the danger.