That night when Mrs. Radigan brought Sir Charles into the smoking-room, when she tucked me under her arm and dragged me away, when I looked back and saw Pearl toss her cigarette into the fire and fix her lustrous eyes on the English solicitor, I thought all was over. Sir Charles had said that it would only take a minute to settle the whole thing; but he did not know Pearl Veal. She listened to him silently, and the proposal in behalf of the Duke of Nocastle must have been well worth hearing. Sir Charles repeated all his Grace's titles, told her the history of the ducal house of Fitznit and its glories, of its manors, halls, and bowers; of its present head and his virtues, his service in the commissary department in South Africa, and his speech in the House of Lords on the ginger-beer evil. Lastly, in a softer voice, Sir Charles spoke to Pearl of his Grace's love. He talked very nicely, too, she says, and quite affected her, quite overwhelmed her with the sense of her lowliness and the high honor his Grace had conferred in stooping to offer her his hand, when he had the proudest women in England at his feet. "And now," said the lawyer rising, "I may tell his Grace that you will be proud to accept his offer." Pearl rose, too, stepped to the table and picked up a bit of paper and a pencil. "How much does he owe?" she said, chewing the rubber while she eyed the great man. "But, my dear Miss Vial, he is a duke," protested Sir Charles. "And that little matter has been arranged by Mrs. Batigan." "But I might like to spend my money in other ways," said Pearl. So Sir Charles indignantly got out a note-book and gave her the figures. It was a paltry sum compared to our Wall Street failures, and he assured her that the creditors would take two shillings in the pound and be thankful for it. They seldom got more from dukes. Pearl lighted a cigarette, and as she leaned easily against the table she watched a spire of smoke go curling away into the dark recesses of the ceiling. "Well, Miss Vial?" said Sir Charles testily. "I'll let you know Monday," came the quiet answer, with the quiet smile. "But 'pon my word!" protested the great Englishman. Pearl curled up in her chair again and began blowing smoke rings. "He is an English duke," said Sir Charles angrily. Pearl seemed intensely occupied watching the gray halo that was floating above her head. "Do you realize what it means to marry a peer of England?" came again in a louder tone. The corners of the girl's mouth turned up, just a trifle. "Do you consider whom you are keeping waiting?" demanded the lawyer solemnly. Pearl smiled.