d wrinkled a little, and there was an ominous
tightening of the lips. "You must take that back. Peter Vanrenen is
quite as great a man in the United States as you are in England--may I
even say, without disrespect, a man who has won a more commanding
position?--and his daughter, Cynthia, is better fitted to adorn a
coronet than a great many women now entitled to wear one."

The Earl laughed, with an immoderate display of an amusement he was
far from feeling.

"Are these Wiggy Devar's credentials? By gad, that shabby little
wretch is flying high when she tries to bag my son for her pretty
protegee!"

"Don't you think it would be wiser, sir, if you allowed me to tell you
exactly what has taken place since we met last?"

"What good purpose will that serve? I have heard the whole story from
Lady Porthcawl, from Dale, from that Frenchman--and Heaven knows I
have been well coached in Mrs. Devar's antecedents by your Aunt Susan.
George, I am surprised that a man of your sound commonsense should
permit yourself to be humbugged so egregiously.... Yes, yes, I am
aware that an accident led you to take Simmonds's place in the
first instance, but can't you see that the Devar creature must have
gone instantly on her bended knees--if she ever does pray, which I
doubt--and thanked Providence for the chance that enabled her to
dispose of an earldom?... At a pretty stiff price, too, I'll be bound,
if the truth were told. Really, George, notwithstanding your very
extensive travels and wide experiences, you are nothing but a kid in
the hands of a managing woman of the Devar variety."

"I am not being given in marriage by Mrs. Devar, I assure you," began
Medenham, smiling anxiously, for the fatherly "tell me all about it"
was not being borne out by the Earl's petulance.

"No. You can trust me to take care of that."

"But are you treating me quite fairly? Why should the distorted
version of my affairs given by Lady Porthcawl, a woman whom Cynthia
Vanrenen could not possibly receive in her house, and by Count Edouard
Marigny, a disappointed fortune-hunter, be accepted without cavil,
while my own story is not listened to? I leave Dale out of it. I am
sure he told you the actual truth----"

"By the way, where is he now?"

"Somewhere in the neighborhood of Chester, I believe."

"Have you discharged him?"

"No--why should I?"

"Because I wish it."

"Why in the world are you so unreasonable, dad?"

"Unreasonable! By gad, I like