“There are two of us to the divided title”
“How romantic!” breathed Helen.
“Rah-ther. We pride ourselves on that sort of thing, we Veyzes.”
As the glory of his performance developed before her enraptured mind, the Hymn of Hate died out within Darcy, to be succeeded by a Pæan of Praise.
“And now,” said she severely, “I should think you girls might have the decency to apologize to Sir Montrose.”
“Rah-ther!” confirmed her ally.
“I’m awfully sorry,” said Helen contritely. “I’ll apologize when I’m proved wrong,” returned Mrs. Lee dubiously. “We’ll know soon enough.”
“Yes? And how?”
“Mr. Wood is trying to get the British Embassy on long-distance’phone.”
“My respects to Lord Wyncombe,” said the undisturbed suspect. “But why go to so much trouble? Surely there’s a simpler way.”