“That’s a great pity,” Percy pleaded. “You’d find the whole matter in black and white, and upon my honour I know very little about it.” The girl seemed to wonder at this innocence. “You know at least whether he’s what they call a great noble.” “Oh yes, he’s in that line.” “Is he a ‘peer of the realm’?” “Well, as yet—very nearly.” “And has he any other title than Lord Lambeth?” “His title’s the Marquis of Lambeth.” With which the fountain of Bessie’s information appeared to run a little dry. She looked at him, however, with such interest that he presently added: “He’s the son of the Duke of Bayswater.” “The eldest—?” “The only one.” “And are his parents living?” “Naturally—as to his father. If _he_ weren’t living Lambeth would be a duke.” “So that when ‘the old lord’ dies”—and the girl smiled with more simplicity than might have been expected in one so “sharp”—“he’ll become Duke of Bayswater?” “Of course,” said their common friend. “But his father’s in excellent health.” “And his mother?” Percy seemed amused. “The Duchess is built to last!” “And has he any sisters?” “Yes, there are two.” “And what are they called?” “One of them’s married. She’s the Countess of Pimlico.” “And the other?” “The other’s unmarried—she’s plain Lady Julia.” Bessie entered into it all. “Is she very plain?” He began to laugh again. “You wouldn’t find her so handsome as her brother,” he said; and it was after this that he attempted to dissuade the heir of the Duke of Bayswater from accepting Mrs. Westgate’s invitation. “Depend upon it,” he said, “that girl means to have a go at you.” “It seems to me you’re doing your best to make a fool of me,” the modest young nobleman answered. “She has been asking me,” his friend imperturbably pursued, “all about your people and your possessions.” “I’m sure it’s very good of her!” Lord Lambeth returned. “Well, then,” said Percy, “if you go straight into it, if you hurl yourself bang upon the spears, you do so with your eyes open.” “Damn my eyes!” the young man pronounced. “If one’s to be a dozen times a day at the house it’s a great deal more convenient to sleep there. I’m sick of travelling up and down this beastly Avenue.” Since he had determined to go Percy would of course have been very sorry to allow him to go alone; he was a man of many scruples—in the direction in which he had any at all—and he remembered his promise to the Duchess. It was obviously the memory of this promise that made Mr. Beaumont say to his companion a couple of days later that he rather wondered he should be so fond of such a girl. “In the first place how do you know how fond I am?” asked Lord Lambeth. “And in the second why shouldn’t I be fond of her?” “I shouldn’t think she’d be in your line.” “What do you call my ‘line’? You don’t set her down, I suppose, as ‘fast’?”