“Why, to the Dandos. I wrote to your friend--was it very unmaidenly of me? and the invitation came back directly. O, Richard, what a glorious little man he is, loving you so, and, I think, attached to me too--but of course you told me that.” “Did I? So you went? And what did you think of Mrs Dando?” “Now, Richard! I won’t answer you as you want. She is immense.” “Enormous.” “I didn’t mean that. To hear the way they both spoke up for you.” “Did she too? But I really had no reason to suppose she would--may her shadow never grow less. But Johnny, of course.” “Of course. He is mad about the way you are being treated, and insists on seeing you through to the end, and establishing your claim before the world.” “I am so blessed in my love and friendship, darling, that I live in a perpetual fools’ paradise about myself and my merits. And so that is the explanation of this escapade, I suppose.” “Yes; he brought me.” “_Who_? Johnny?” “I hope you don’t mind. He’s waiting in the fly to take me back when we’ve done.” “I shall go with you. I’m finished here.” “O, Richard! Will you--will you?” “Clasp your hands to me, baby. You look as if you were all made of tinted sugar, and I’ve a business not to eat you. There. In spite of everything my heart sings to choke me. How can I ever let you go again! Yes. I’ll telegraph to Shapter when we get to town. An hour ago I felt as if the world had done me; now I feel like a giant for rounding on it. What is your particular power, you weak little thing? Give me your hand. Don’t you remember how I made it carry that pailful of water, beast that I was! It would have served me right if you had dumped it on my toes. Ira, supposing I never made good my claim?” “What, to me?” “To you, conceit? No, to the title, I meant, of course.” “O! I had forgotten. But what does it matter, Richard, so long as we have one another?” What did it matter, indeed? I ring down the curtain on that unanswerable query. CHAPTER XXXIV. THE GREAT SKENE CASE