“Two or three,” I admitted.
“And duchesses, too?”
I again pleaded guilty. In these democratic days, if one is engaged in public and social affairs one can't help running up against them. It is their fault, not mine.
“Do tell me about them,” said Lola, with her elbows on the table.
I told her.
“And are earls and countesses just the same?” she asked with a disappointed air.
“Just the same, only worse. They're so ordinary you can't pick them out from common misters and missuses.”
Saying this I rose, for we had finished our dessert, and proposed coffee in the lounge. There we found Colonel Bunnion at so wilful a loose end that I could not find it in my heart to refuse him an introduction to Lola. He manifested his delight by lifting the skirt of his dinner-jacket with his hands and rising on his spurs like a bantam cock. I left her to him for a moment and went over to say a civil word to the Misses Bostock of South Shields. I regret to say I noticed a certain frigidity in their demeanour. The well-conducted man in South Shields does not go out one night with a revolver tucked away in the pocket of his dress-suit, and turn up the next evening with a striking-looking lady with bronze hair. Such goings-on are seen on the stage in South Shields in melodrama, and they are the goings-on of the villain. In the eyes of the gentle ladies my reputation was gone. I was trying to rehabilitate myself when the chasseur brought me a telegram. I asked permission to open it, and stepped aside.
The words of the telegram were like a ringing box on the ears.
“Tell me immediately why Lola has joined you in Algiers. —KYNNERSLEY.”