“Be quiet, Victoria!” said her indignant parent. “From the way you treat him he might be your husband. But I’m sure it isn’t a thing for you to joke about. Do you remember that this is your third season, and that you are nearly twenty?” Her daughter smiled in good-tempered derision. “I think, as there is only Mr. Despencer here, I may as well remember that it is my fourth season, and that I am over twenty-one.” The marchioness passed over the correction. “All the more reason that you should seriously consider your position. The question is whether you really intend to be married or not.” “Surely it isn’t a question of my intentions. You had better ask the men theirs. I presume they know I am in stock by this time.” “It is idle to talk like that. I have offered you three men already, and you found fault with each of them.” The marchioness spoke with real feeling. “There was Sir Humphrey Bewley, a most eligible man, who quite raved about you. You complained that he was too old.” “Old! He was prehistoric. He used to get excited about the Conquest.” “Then you shouldn’t have encouraged him. You let him spend a fortune in jewelry for you.” “That was because I mistook his intentions. I thought he wanted to adopt me.” The marchioness gasped. “Don’t talk like that! Then there was the Earl of Mullet. You objected to him because he was a Scotchman.” “And took snuff. Put down the snuff.” “He wouldn’t have made you take it. And last year you refused Mr. Jacobson, whose father owns three gold mines. You said he was a Jew.” “No, excuse me, I merely said his father had been one.” The marchioness shook herself impatiently. “The Jews are most respectable,” she proclaimed, “when they are rich enough. They go everywhere.” “Except to the Holy Land, marchioness.” The interruption came from Despencer. If he threw in the remark with the hope of propitiating Lady Victoria it was a failure. That young lady took not the slightest notice. Her mother glared at the traitor for an instant, and continued as though he had not spoken. “It is high time you made up your mind. Now, there is Mr. Hammond, who has promised to come here this afternoon. He has been paying you attentions for some time. You can’t say anything against him.” Victoria had changed color slightly at the mention of this name. But she responded, in the same tone of languid indifference: “I have nothing to say against him, except that so far his intentions have not been very oppressive. He has danced with me three times, and he once peeled me an orange, but you can hardly found a breach of promise case on that.” “I’m not sure,” ventured the unabashed Despencer. “I fancy something might be made out of the orange.” Before the marchioness could proceed with her lecture, the door opened, and the voice of the machine announced, “Mr. Hammond!”