"Yes, yes ... do!" she said hurriedly. "I'll take it as an act of the
greatest kindness and friendship on Jack's part. Tell him so from me.
You see, Morris is so young and so ... so 'American,' as you said." She
forced a smile. "The bump of reverence isn't much cultivated in my
native land, you know...."

"I know," said Olive soothingly. "But we _weally_ make allowances for
that, you know. It isn't _at all_ as if an Englishman had called that
old gwandeur 'foxy.' You see, Amewicans think so _vewy_ differently from
what we do." She was rattling on in her affectionate desire to mitigate
Sophy's mortification by showing her a comprehending sympathy. "Why, I
knew the most _charming_ young Amewican girl once ... and she told me,
as a _gweat_ joke, that when she was pwesented to the Pwincess Louise,
she said: 'Hello!'... Now, you see, she _weally_ thought that was
funny--and what Amewicans call 'smart.' You see, it's just the different
point of view, darling. And we _all_ understand _that_. I'm sure that
Mr...."

"Never mind, Olive," Sophy broke in again. "If Jack will make Morris
understand ... that such things aren't done ... I'll be very grateful.
More grateful than I can say."

* * * * *

Olive was more thoughtful than ever as she returned to her own room. She
stood in a brown study for some moments when she reached it, then went
and tapped on the door of her husband's dressing-room.

It was nearly one o'clock, and, attired in his pyjamas, he was swinging
a light pair of Indian clubs before going to bed. He put them down as
his wife entered and said:

"How did it come off? Awkward thing to do--eh? Was she huffy?"

"'Huffy'!... She was a _Sewaph_!... Oh, Jack"--she dropped limply upon a
chair-arm--"it's _twagic_!"

"I felt tragic enough at luncheon, that's certain," replied he grimly.
"But what's tragic now?... If Sophy wasn't offended by your suggestion?
You really made it, I suppose?"

"Yes. I did," said Olive curtly. "But I'm not thinking of _that_ any
longer--I'm thinking of Sophy. I'd _so_ hoped she was happy _this_
time!... But she isn't ... she isn't...."

"How could she be ... married to a young bounder like that?" asked
Arundel.

Olive shook her head.

"No, Jack. He's _not_ a bounder ... that's what's so puzzling. There's
_something_ w'ong with him--but he's _weally_ not a bounder...."

"Well, no ... perhaps not," admitted he grudgingly.

"But there's certainly so