“She's going over to Plattsburg with me to-day, and when she comes back she will be Mrs. Randolph Shaw. That's what I mean, your lordship.” Three of his listeners choked with amazement and then coughed painfully. Feebly they set their cups down and gulped as if they had something to swallow. The duke was the first to find his tongue, and he was quite at a loss for words. “B--by Jove,” he said blankly, “that's demmed hot coffee!” “Is this true, Penelope?” gasped his lordship. “Yes, Cecil. I've promised to marry him.” “Good God! It is n't because you feel that you have no home with me?” “I love him. It's a much older story than you think,” she said simply. “I say, that hits me hard,” said the duke, with a wry face. “Still, I join in saying God bless you.” “We're trying to end the feud, you see,” said Penelope. Tears came into his lordship's pale eyes. He looked first at one and then at the other, and then silently extended his hand to Randolph Shaw. He wrung it vigorously for a long time before speaking. Then, as if throwing a weight off his mind, he remarked: “I say, Shaw, I 'm sorry about that dog. I 've got an English bull-terrier down there that's taken a ribbon or so. If you don't mind, I'll send him up to you. He--he knows Penelope.” End of Project Gutenberg's Cowardice Court, by George Barr McCutcheon