"One
of our future Duchesses, I suppose?"
Lady Runton smiled.
"Lots of money, Teddy," she answered. "What a pity you haven't a title!"
The young man--he was in the Foreign Office--sighed, and shook his head.
"Such things are not for me," he declared sententiously. "My affections
are engaged."
"That isn't the least reason why you shouldn't marry money," her
ladyship declared, lighting a cigarette. "Go and talk to her!"
"Can't spoil sport!" he answered, shaking his head. "By Jove! Duncombe
is making the running, though, isn't he?"
Her ladyship raised her glasses. Duncombe and Miss Fielding had
strolled outside the barn. He was showing her his house--a very
picturesque old place it looked, down in the valley.
"It's nothing but a farmhouse, of course," he said. "No pretensions to
architecture or anything of that sort, of course, but it's rather a
comfortable old place."
"I think it is perfectly charming," the girl said. "Do you live there
all alone? You have sisters perhaps?"
He shook his head.
"No such luck!" he answered. "Mine is entirely a bachelor establishment.
A great part of the time I am alone. Just now I have a pal staying with
me--awfully decent chap, from Devonshire.
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