Then she said that Sir Charles Wigge must see it when he came. She would insist on the Duke bringing him down for a few days. When Sir Charles did come, all would be over with me, I thought. There was plenty of time to ponder on the situation, for Constance Wherry was giving me in detail the plot of a play she had seen the night before, and by leaning interestedly toward her I was able to get an occasional glance around the monstrous jardinière, and see Pearl, as she covered his Grace with smiles. The Duke quite warmed up and smiled, too, and made several remarks, after he had had some champagne. There was little consolation for me there, except the meagre possibility in Pearl's promise to take Sir Charles out in her car--the roads would be better then, she said, and they would be able to go. "It would be jolly," Nocastle stammered, twirling his glass. After dinner we had bridge, but it was rather tame at our table, his Grace declining to play for more than a ha'penny a point, as he had to carry Miss Bumpschus, who never gambles. It was rather a bore, but I found some pleasure in the polite row we had at the end, over the question as to whether we were playing on the American or English coinage basis. His Grace said English, of course, as he never could understand our American money. It was folly to be wise, indeed, as he had won three rubbers; but as the amount involved was only $5, I settled in English and let it go at that, but Miss Wherry stuck to cents, paid, and went to bed in a towering rage. She lacks humor. Now, when I told Pearl about it she blew a smoke ring and said simply, "He's a jolly duke." CHAPTER XX _Sir Charles Wigge Takes Possession_ Mrs. Radigan has been overawed at last. Sir Charles Wigge has arrived, and the masterful English solicitor is more than a match for her, clever though she is. He seldom gives her an opportunity to speak, and then her voice sounds in a faint tremolo that is almost pitiful. If you asked her why England was great, she would simply point to the Duke of Nocastle's friend and guide, and I do not know but that I should agree with her. Fortunate, indeed, is the land that possesses such a man, for, having him, it must be the centre of all the virtues. He must be the court of last appeal at home, as there is nothing that he does not know absolutely, no opinion not his that is worth considering. We all feel very humble since we have had him around for a day or two, and I actually have found myself wondering how I ever attained majority under the barbarous conditions in which we live, in the glare of the sun, in a dry and wholesome atmosphere, in warm houses, with little that is fit to eat, and then so far from London. Our beer is bad, too, and as for the water, Sir Charles spurns it. Men, says he, are like plants, that to fully flower should be rained on daily, in proof of which he has only to point to his own people.