"Twenty years too late," he declared. "Even the suburbs turn up their
noses at a lord now."
"I must do something," Arranmore declared, meditatively.
"Don't see the necessity," Hennibul remarked.
Lord Arranmore lifted his glass and looked thoughtfully at the wine for
a moment.
"Ah, well," he said, "you were born lazy, and I was born restless. That
is the reason you have done something, and I haven't."
"If you want my advice--my serious advice," the K. C. said, quietly,
"you will make yourself a nuisance to that right woman, whoever she is,
until she marries you--if only to get rid of you."
"All sorts of things in the way," Lord Arranmore declared. "You see, I
was married abroad."
Mr. Hennibul looked up quickly.
"Nonsense!"
"Quite true, I assure you."
"Is she alive?"
"No--but her son is.
"Great Heavens. Why, he's Lord Kingston?"
"Of course he is."
"How old is he?"
"Twenty-eight--or somewhere thereabouts."
"What is he doing? Where is he? Why don't we know him?"
"He doesn't approve of me," Lord Arranmore said. "Fact, really! We are
scarcely on speaking terms.
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