ted house."

"Oh, I say, Pen, that's going out of the way for a little fun, isn't
it? My word, it's a filthy old house with rats and mice and all
that--no place for a ghost, much less a nice little human being like
you. They're all like that."

"I think you are afraid to go," said she.

"Afraid of ghosts? Pshaw!" sniffed the duke, sticking out his chest.

"Yes, Shaw! That's whom you're afraid of."

"Now, see here, Pen, you shouldn't say that. Shaw's a d----, a cad.
See what Cecil did to him. Remember that? Well, pooh! What would _I_
do to him?" Penelope looked him over critically.

"I'll admit that you're larger and younger than Cecil," she confessed
grudgingly. "But they say Mr. Shaw is a giant-killer." The duke
dropped his monocle and guffawed loudly.

"Good!" he cried in the ecstasy of pride. His worn, dissipated face
lighted up with unwonted interest. "I say, Pen, that's the nicest
thing you've said to me in a week. You've been so deuced cold of late.
I don't understand. I'm not such a bad lot, you know."

"Tell that to Mrs. De Peyton and Mrs. Corwith. They're looking for the
good in everything."

"By Jove, I believe you're jealous! This is the proudest moment of my
life."

"Don't be silly! And don't try to make love to me any more. Wait until
I'm married," she added with a laugh, the irony of which escaped him.

"But, hang it all, suppose you should marry some one else and not me."

"That's what I mean."

"Oh!" he said, perplexed. Then, as if his stupidity called for an
explanation: "I had a beastly night. Didn't go to bed till four. But,
I say, why can't I have the same privilege as these other chaps?
Corwith makes love to you and so does Odwell, and, hang it, they're
both married. It's rotten mean of--"

"Their wives are accountable for their manners, not I. But, come; will
you go to Renwood's with me?"

"I'd rather talk to you in that nice little corner of the
billiard-room, at home, if you--"

"But I don't need a brandy and soda. Oh!" This exclamation came with
the discovery of an approaching horseman. "It's Mr. Shaw--I'm sure."

Randolph Shaw, loyal to his feudal promise, appeared in the road a
couple of hundred yards away. He drew rein and from that distance
surveyed the two who were so near to encroaching upon his preserves.
He sat straight and forbidding in the saddle. For a full minute
the two factions stared at each other. Then, without a sign of
recognition, Shaw turned and rode rap