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 friends of mine who—who came over in the same ship,” he went on to explain rather lamely.

Forsyth shot an amused glance at his old crony. “Yes, I know that Uncle Jem was expecting some Americans to put up with him, and he has been raving about the charms of the young lady of the party for the last fortnight. You are excited, Charley. Your manner has struck me as strange since we met at the hotel. Is it permitted to inquire if my uncle is entertaining unawares—a future Duchess?”

To the young Scotsman’s surprise, the Duke showed signs for a moment of taking the lightspoken banter amiss. Beaumanoir flushed, and muttered something inarticulate, but pulled himself together and diverted their talk into a fresh channel, clumsily enough.

“Don’t gas about me, old chap,” he said. “Tell me of yourself. Is the world using you better than formerly?”

“About the same,” Forsyth replied with a shrug. “They gave me a twenty-pound rise last year, so my pay as a third-grade clerk in the Foreign Office is now the princely sum of £230 per annum. Not a brilliant prospect.