"AN AMAZING RESEMBLANCE TO A SMILE."
"It is not my habit, Sir Tristram, to regard my magisterial duties as offering much scope for amusement. Situated as I am—as you are—as we all are—our party!—in the eyes of the nation, it seems to me that this matter may easily become one of paramount importance. Of such importance that I have come to you as a friend, to-night, to ask you, if there is a chance of Miss Cullen's charge becoming so much as whispered abroad, to seriously consider if it would not be advisable for you to place your resignation in the hands of the Prime Minister before your appointment to the Chancellorship is publicly announced."
Sir Tristram's jaw dropped open. His resemblance to a bull-dog perceptibly decreased.
"Duke!"
"I am not certain, in coming to-night, that I have not allowed my friendship for you to carry me too far. Still, I have come."
"Your Grace is more than sufficiently severe. If you will allow me to exactly explain my position in this matter, I shall have no difficulty in making that evident. I fear that Miss Cullen is a dangerous young woman."
The Duke shrugged his shoulders.
"You, of all men, ought to know that, under certain circumstances, women are dangerous—and even girls."
"Precisely. That is so. But, I think that, after I have made my explanation, you will allow that Miss Cullen is an even unusually dangerous example of a dangerous sex." He paused—perhaps for reflection. When he continued, it was with a hang-dog air. "Some short time since I did myself the honour of asking Miss Cullen to become my wife. I fear that—eh—circumstances induced me to take her answer too much for granted. So much so, indeed, that—eh—while I was waiting for her answer, I—eh—I—eh—kissed her. I do not wish to lay stress upon the accident that the kiss was but the merest shadow of a kiss. But such, in fact, it was."