good society," she corrected, with unconscious irony.

"Oh," said he, very much relieved.

"He's a demmed cad," Said his lordship conclusively.

"Because he chucked your men into the river?" asked Penelope sweetly.

"She's dooced pretty, eh?" whispered the duke to Mrs. De Peyton
without taking his eyes from his young countrywoman's face.

"Who?" asked Mrs. De Peyton. Then he relinquished his gaze and turned
his monocle blankly upon the American beside him.

"I shall send him a warning that he'll have to respect, cad or no
cad," said Bazelhurst, absently spreading butter upon his fingers
instead of the roll.

"_Send_ him a warning?" asked his queenly wife. "Aren't you going to
see him personally? You can't trust the servants, it seems."

"My dear, I can't afford to lose my temper and engage in a row with
that bounder, and there's no end of trouble I might get into--"

"I shall see him myself, if you won't," said her ladyship firmly.
There was frigid silence at the table for a full minute, relieved only
when his lordship's monocle dropped into the glass of water he was
trying to convey to his lips. He thought best to treat the subject
lightly, so he laughed in his most jovial way.

"You'd better take a mackintosh with you, my dear," he said. "Remember
what he told Tompkins and James."

"He will not throw _me_ into the river. It might be different if you
went. Therefore I think--"

"Throw me in, would he?" and Bazelhurst laughed loudly. "I'm no groom,
my dear. You forget that it _is_ possible for Mr. Shaw to be soused."

"He was good enough to souse himself this morning," volunteered
Penelope. "I rather like him."

"By Jove, Cecil, you're not afraid to meet him, are you?" asked the
duke with tantalizing coolness. "You know, if you are, I'll go over
and talk to the fellow."

"Afraid? Now, hang it all, Barminster, that's rather a shabby thing to
suggest. You forget India."

"I'm trying to. Demmed miserable time I had out there. But this fellow
fights. That's more than the beastly natives did when we were out
there. Marching isn't fighting, you know."

"Confound it, you forget the time--"

"Mon Dieu, are we to compare ze Hindoo harem wiz ze American feest
slugger?" cried the count, with a wry face.

"What's that?" demanded two noblemen in one voice. The count
apologized for his English.

"No one but a coward would permit this disagreeable Shaw creature to
run affairs in such a high-handed way," said h