"Except the gentleman on your right," he answered. She leaned towards him confidentially. "His name," she whispered, "is Lord Charles Grantham. He is the son of the Duke of Leicester, who is, between ourselves, almost as wicked a duke as my father is a marquis. Fortunately, however, his mother left him a fortune. Do you notice how thoughtful he looks?" David Thain glanced across the table at the young man in question, who was exchanging rather weary monosyllables with his right-hand neighbour. "He is perhaps overworked?" Letitia shook her head. "Not at all. He cannot make up his mind whether or not he wants to marry me." "And can you make up your mind whether you wish to marry him?" Letitia lost for a moment her air of gentle banter. "What a downright question!" she observed. "However, I can't tell you before I answer him, can I, and he hasn't asked me yet." "I should think," David Thain said coolly, "that you would make an excellent match." Their eyes met for a moment. There was a challenging light in hers to which he instantly responded. Her very beautiful white teeth closed for a moment upon her lower lip. Then she smiled upon him once more. "It is so reassuring," she murmured, "to be told things like that by people who are likely to know. Charles, talk to me at once," she went on, turning towards him. "Mr. Thain and I agree far too perfectly upon everything." Thain was deep in conversation with his neighbour before Lord Charles was able to disentangle himself from the conversational artifices of the Duchess. Letitia took note of his aptness with a little, malicious smile. It was towards the close of dinner when she once more turned towards him. "Have you been telling Mrs. Honeywell how you made all your millions?" she asked. "I have been trying to point out," he replied, "that the first million is all one has to make. The rest comes." "What a delightful country!" Letitia observed. "If I were to borrow from all my friends and collected a million, do you think I could go out there and become a multi-millionaire?" "Women are not natural money-makers," he pronounced. "What is her real sphere?" she asked sweetly. "I should so much like to know your opinion of us." "As yet," he replied, "I have had no time to form one." "What a pity!" she sighed. "It would have been so instructive." "In the small amenities of daily life," he said thoughtfully, "in what one of our writers calls the insignificant arts, women seem inevitably to excel. They always appear to do better, in fact, in the narrower circles. Directly they step outside, a certain lack of breadth becomes noticeable." "Dear me!" she murmured. "It's a good thing I'm not one of these modern ladies who stand on a tub in Hyde Park and thump the drum for votes. I should be saying quite disagreeable things to you, Mr. Thain, shouldn't I?"