"Undoubtedly it is my obvious duty, as otherwise the title will die out--but surely you do not suggest that I should convert any of these charming creatures who were good enough to try to lighten my mood last night and to-day, into my wife! I had hoped they were at least safely married, and now you make me tremble in case you are going to announce to me that some are widows!" "Blanche Montague is; I merely asked the others to accustom you to the modern type. They are to break in your sensibilities, so to speak, and next time you come, if you don't fancy Blanche I will have a selection of suitable prospective Duchesses." "Will they make as much noise as these '_ballons d'essai_'?" "More--nothing modern can be dignified or quiet, so get the idea out of your head. They are all so out of door and so hearty, such delightful, fresh, knowing, supremely uninnocent, jolly good fellows, they can't be silent or keep still. There are too many new _révues_ to be talked about, and too much golf to be played, and new American nigger dances to be learned.--Come, come, Mordryn! You do not want to be ridiculously old-fashioned--and really Blanche Montague is most suitable. Montague left her well provided for--and she was only thirty-two last birthday." "But I don't like her voice, and what should we converse about in the _entr'actes_?" "Blanche is famous for her small talk, she will start upon any subject under the sun you please--and change it before you can answer the first question. No fear of stagnation there!" "Even the description tires me. I prefer the lady who you assured me was all simulated passion. I adore passion, though I confess I prefer it to be real." "How captious of you! The thing is unknown in these days, it has to be reconstructed, like the modern rubies--lots of little ground-up fragments pressed into a whole by scientific chemistry.--A good imitation is all you will get, Mordryn." "I loathe imitations," and His Grace shuddered. "I think you had better give me an exact description of what you do want, for, my poor old friend, you seem to be out to court disappointment. I earnestly desire to help you into a second noose more satisfactory than the one I originally placed around your neck--so out with it! A full description!" The Duke deliberately lit a cigarette, and a gleam of firelight caught his emerald ring. "Your famous talisman is flashing, Mordryn, the lyre shows that it approves of your thoughts!"