Manford lent an absent ear first to one neighbour, then the other. Mrs. Toy was saying, in her flat uncadenced voice, like tepid water running into a bath: "I don't see how people can live without lifts in their houses, do you? But perhaps it's because I've never had to. Father's house had the first electric lift at Climax. Once, in England, we went to stay with the Duke of Humber, at Humber Castle--one of those huge parties, royalties and everything--golf and polo all day, and a ball every night; and, will you believe it, _we had to walk up and down stairs_! I don't know what English people are made of. I suppose they've never been used to what we call comfort. The second day I told Herman I couldn't stand those awful slippery stairs after two rounds of golf, and dancing till four in the morning. It was simply destroying my heart--the doctor has warned me so often! I wanted to leave right away--but Herman said it would offend the Duke. The Duke's such a sweet old man. But, any way, I made Herman promise me a sapphire and emerald _plaque_ from Cartier's before I'd agree to stick it out..." The Marchesa's little ferret face with sharp impassioned eyes darted conversationally forward. "The Duke of Humber? I know him so well. Dear old man! Ah, you also stayed at Humber? So often he invites me. We are related ... yes, through his first wife, whose mother was a Venturini of the Calabrian branch: Donna Ottaviana. Yes. Another sister, Donna Rosmunda, the beauty of the family, married the Duke of Lepanto ... a mediatized prince..." She stopped, and Manford read in her eyes the hasty inward interrogation: "Will they think that expression queer? I'm not sure myself just what 'mediatized' means. And these Americans! They stick at nothing, but they're shocked at everything." Aloud she continued: "A mediatized prince--but a man of the _very highest_ character." "Oh--" murmured Mrs. Toy, puzzled but obviously relieved. Manford's attention, tugging at its moorings, had broken loose again and was off and away.