"And now," he said, "about the party. Ribton Marches will, as the Duchess says, hold a regiment. There are dozens of bedrooms, and the reception-rooms are very large."
"Oh," Mrs. Verulam said, "I only mean to have quite a little party—eight in all, including myself—four women and four men."
"Yes?"
"The Duchess, Lady Pearl, myself, the Duke, you, dear Mr. Rodney"—Mr. Rodney bowed happily—"Mr. Ingerstall, to worry the Duchess—you know how overwhelming she is if there is nobody about to worry her—Mr. James Bush, and Mr. Van Adam."
Mr. Rodney calculated gravely.
"But that is three ladies and five men," he said.
"No, indeed!" Mrs. Verulam grew red under the swift knowledge of her absurd mistake, and cried: "Oh yes, of course. How stupid of me! That won't do, will it? Never mind; I'll ask Miss Bindler, Lord Kingsbridge's sister—you know how fond she is of racing—and someone else."
She was obviously confused for a moment. Mr. Rodney attributed her condition to a wrong cause, prompted by the jealousy that almost habitually preyed upon him in regard to Mrs. Verulam. His mind instantly fastened upon the only name in the list that was totally unfamiliar to him.
"Mr. James Bush?" he murmured enquiringly.
Mrs. Verulam recovered herself promptly, but a curious shining look came into her grey eyes as she answered: