The exponent of Southern aristocracy looked uncomfortable.
“As to the others,” he said, “Mr. Raimonda is a native—”
“With the manners of a prince. I’ve quite fallen in love with him already,” she said wickedly.
“Of course, if you wish it. But the other American is an ex-professional baseball player, named Cluff.”
“What? ‘Clipper’ Cluff? I knew I’d seen him before!” cried Miss Polly. “He got his start in the New York State League. Why, we’re quite old friends, by sight.”
“As for Galpy, he’s an underbred little cockney bounder.”
“With the most naive line of conversation I’ve ever listened to. I want all of them.”
“Let me bring Sherwen first,” pleaded the suitor, and was presently introducing that gentleman. “Mr. Sherwen is in charge here of the American Legation,” he explained.
“How does one salute a real live minister?” queried Miss Brewster.
“Don’t mistake me for anything so important,” said Sherwen. “We’re not keeping a minister in stock at present. My job is being a superior kind of janitor until diplomatic relations are resumed.”