to marry him, had I called him across the ocean to intervene in a vulgar village squabble about social precedence? "Social precedence silly rot!"
I insisted that his brother should be seen to. One couldn't tell what the woman might do. Her audacity was tremendous, even for an American. To this he listened more patiently.
"Dare say you're right. You don't go off your head easily. I'll rag him proper, now I'm here. Always knew the ass would make a silly marriage if he could. Yes, yes, I'll break it up quick enough. I say I'll break it up proper. Dancers and that sort. Dangerous. But I know their tricks."
A summons to tea below interrupted him.
"Hungry, my word! Hardly dared eat in that dining-coach. Tinned stuff all about one. Appendicitis! American journal—some Colonel chap found it out. Hunting sort. Looked a fool beside his silly horse, but seemed to know. Took no chances. Said the tin-opener slays its thousands. Rot, no doubt. Perhaps not."
I led him below, hardly daring at the moment to confess my own responsibility for his fears. Another time, I thought, we might chat of it.
Belknap-Jackson with his wife and the Mixer awaited us. His lordship was presented, and I excused myself.
"Mrs. Pettingill, his lordship the Earl of Brinstead," had been the host's speech of presentation to the Mixer.
"How do do, Earl; I'm right glad to meet you," had been the Mixer's acknowledgment, together with a hearty grasp of the hand. I saw his lordship's face brighten.
"What ho!" he cried with the first cheerfulness he had
