The little groom sprang away, Rhino and Ready dashed ahead.

"Shall I drop you at the club?" she asked. "I'm goin' home."

"I'll get out here," said I.

We came to a stand again, and I got down.

"Goodbye," I said.

She nodded at me, but said nothing. A second later the carriage was tearing down the road, and the little groom hanging on for dear life.

Of course, it's all nonsense. She's not the least suited to him; she'd make him miserable, and then be miserable herself. But it seems a little perverse, doesn't it? In fact, twice at least between the courses at dinner I caught myself being sorry for her. It is, when you think of it, so remarkably perverse.

A MATTER OF DUTY

Lady Mickleham is back from her honeymoon. I mean young Lady Mickleham--Dolly Foster (well, of course I do. Fancy the Dowager on a honeymoon!) She signified the fact to me by ordering me to call on her at teatime; she had, she said, something which she wished to consult me about confidentially. I went.

"I didn't know you were back," I observed.

"Oh, we've been back a fortnight, but we went down to The Towers. They were all there, Mr. Carter."

"All who?"

"All Archie's people. The dowager said we must get really to know one another as soon as possible. I'm not sure I like really knowing people.

It means that they say whatever they like to you, and don't get up out of your favorite chair when you come in."

"I agree," said I, "that a soupcon of unfamiliarity is not amiss."

"Of course it's nice to be one of the family," she continued.

"The cat is that," said I. "I would not give a fig for it."

"And the Dowager taught me the ways of the house."

"Ah, she taught me the way out of it."

"And showed me how to be most disagreeable to the servants."

"It is the first lesson of a housekeeper."

"And told me what Archie particularly liked, and how bad it was for him, poor boy."

"What should we do without our mothers? I do not, however, see how I can help in all this, Lady Mickleham."

"How funny that sounds!"

"Aren't you accustomed to your dignity yet?"

"I meant from you, Mr. Carter."

I smiled. That is Dolly's way. As Miss Phaeton says, she means no harm, and it is admirably conducive to the pleasure of a tete-a-tete.

"It wasn't that I wanted to ask you about," she continued, after she had indulged in a pensive sigh (with a dutifully bright smile and a glance at Archie's photograph to follow. Her behavior always reminds me of a varied and well a.s.sorted menu). "It was about something much more difficult. You won't tell Archie, will you?"

"This becomes interesting," I remarked, putting my hat down.

"You know, Mr. Carter, that before I was married--oh, how long ago it seems!"

"Not at all."

"Don't interrupt. That before I was married I had several--that is to say, several--well, several--"

"Start quite afresh," I suggested encouragingly.

"Well, then, several men were silly enough to think themselves--you know."

"No one better," I a.s.sented cheerfully.

"Oh, if you won't be sensible!--Well, you see, many of them are Archie's friends as well as mine; and, of course, they've been to call."

"It is but good manners," said I.

"One of them waited to be sent for, though."

"Leave that fellow out," said I.

"What I want to ask you is this--and I believe you're not silly, really, you know, except when you choose to be."

"Walk in the Row any afternoon," said I, "and you won't find ten wiser men."

"It's this. Ought I to tell Archie?"

"Good gracious! Here's a problem!"

"Of course," pursued Lady Mickleham, opening her fan, "it's in some ways more comfortable that he shouldn't know."

"For him?"

"Yes--and for me. But then it doesn't seem quite fair."

"To him?"

"Yes--and to me. Because if he came to know from anybody else, he might exaggerate the things, you know."

"Impossible!"