m which
contained the Duchess of Dexminster. (If, by the way, I have to run into
anyone, I like it to be a Duchess; you get a much handsomer paragraph.)

"Yes," said I.

"Often?"

"Oh, not too often, and I always take great care, you know."

"What of?"

"That it shall be quite out of the question, you know. It's not at all
difficult. I only have to avoid persons of moderate means."

"But aren't you a person of--?"

"Exactly. That's why. So I choose either a pauper--when it's
impossible--or an heiress--when it's preposterous. See?"

"But don't you ever want to get--?" began Miss Phaeton.

"Let's talk about something else," said I.

"I believe you're humbuggin' me," said Miss Phaeton.

"I am offering a veiled apology," said I.

"Stuff!" said she. "You know you told Dolly Foster that I should make an
excellent wife for a trainer."

Oh, these women! A man had better talk to a phonograph.

"Or anybody else," said I politely.

Miss Phaeton whipped up her horses.

"Look out! There's the mounted policeman," I cried.

"No, he isn't. Are you afraid?" she retorted.

"I'm not fit to die," I pleaded.

"I don't care a pin for your opinion, you know," she continued (I had
never supposed that she did); "but what did you mean by it?"

"I never said it."

"Oh!"

"All right--I never did."

"Then Dolly invented it?"

"Of course," said I steadily.

"On your honor?"

"Oh, come, Miss Phaeton!"

"Would--would other people think so?" she asked, with a highly
surprising touch of timidity.

"Nobody would," I said. "Only a snarling old wretch would say so, just
because he thought it smart."

There was a long pause. Then Miss Phaeton asked me abruptly:

"You never met him, did you?"

"No."

A pause ensued. We passed the Duchess again, and scratched the nose of
her poodle, which was looking out of the carriage window. Miss Phaeton
flicked Rhino, and the groom behind went plop-plop on the seat.

"He lives in town, you know," remarked Miss Phaeton.

"They mostly do--and write about the country," said I.

"Why shouldn't they?" she asked fiercely.

"My dear Miss Phaeton, by all means let them," said I.

"He's awfully clever, you know," she continued; "but he wouldn't always
talk. Sometimes he just sat and said nothin', or read a book."

A sudden intuition discovered Mr. Gay's feelings to me.

"You were talking about the run, or something, I suppose?"

"Yes, or the bag, you know."

As she spoke she