_Hospitality like this seems to be proof against abuse. Short of larceny, you can’t abuse it. Your duty towards your hostess and your duty towards yourself are synonymous terms. The most dutiful guest is the most self-indulgent. Naturally, such an establishment has attracted a motley crowd: still, there are no flagrant undesirables, and most of us mean well. Bertram Scarlet has just left—amid lamentations. The Pemburys are coming. So you see. . . ._ _I play golf all day, have a rubber of bridge before dinner—small tables, of course—and do a little dancing afterwards. Eleven o’clock usually sees me out. I ran into the Fairies the other day on the links and after a lot of bickering persuaded them to come along after dinner. They and Bertram and I and one or two others made up our own party and had a good evening. When they said ‘Good-night’ to the Countess, she thanked them effusively for coming and begged them to leave the Carlton and stay here instead. She’d no idea who they were. They left dazedly in a Hispano limousine with two chauffeurs, wondering whether it was all a dream, I tell you, the whole thing is incredible—has to be seen to be believed._ _So COME._ _Yours,_ _Teddy Mandeville._ Culloden lowered the letter and gazed into the street. It did seem an obvious way out. But for his title, he would not have thought twice . . . but for his title. The man could not endure to traffic with his name. In spite of golden opportunities, he was not a director of a single company: and, as he steadfastly refused to rent his style, so he declined to exchange it for board and lodging. If he was invited for himself, he was delighted to accept; but every new invitation was carefully weighed, and nine out of ten of them were found wanting. He need not have spent ten months of the year at Ruth Castle. In point of fact, had he pleased, he need not have spent ten days of the year at home. Bachelor dukes are apt to be in demand. . . . The present offer of hospitality was slightly different. It seemed that commoners were welcome—not so welcome, of course. ‘They’re mad to have you.’ Still, Bertram Scarlet and the Fairies—Teddy Mandeville himself seemed to be _personæ gratæ_ at Chiennile. Besides, no one, apparently, was wanted for himself. The Boschettos were purely beneficent. All was fish that came to their net. All they were wanting was a thundering catch. If this included turtle, so much the better: but that was all. There was no doubt about it. Not to avail himself of such a timely chance would be the act of a fool. He wired to Mandeville that night— _Seriously shall I arrive on Monday next?_ In due season he received a reply— _Every time._ * * * * *