"It will be the last time," said I, taking a cigarette from her case and her proffered light. "To-morrow, I think, I shall go the way of Plumstone Smith and those Kansas City men you knew before you became smart."
"Fellows," corrected Pearl.
"To-morrow," I went on unheeding, "Sir Charles Wigge will offer you the hand of the great Duke of Nocastle."
"I should not be surprised," said Pearl, blowing a big ring and sending a second hurtling through it.
"Mrs. Radigan has told me that it is settled beyond question," said I, "for she has intimated plainly to Sir Charles that she and John will make up a purse for you. They won't be outbid by the Bumpschuses."
"Then it is settled," said Pearl, "for who could refuse a duke? Think of being a duchess, of taking precedence over a dozen other American girls who have bought lords, of being able to snub that Bumpschus girl who married Nothingham, and Ethel Bumpschus, who won't marry Nocastle. Think of the columns in the papers, of the wedding-riot, and all that."
Seldom had I heard Pearl say so much, never with such a burst of spirit, for generally she is in quiet mood. All was over now, it seemed to me. With the Duke the end had come and it was useless to fight against it.
"It is dazzling," said I meekly, "and I do not blame you."
"Still," said she meditatively, after a moment's silence, "there is one thing greater than to marry a duke."