A Damsel in Distress

Lord Marshmoreton was frankly staggered.

"A thousand pounds a week! I had no idea!"

"I thought you hadn't. And, while I'm boosting George, let me tell

you another thing. He's one of the whitest men that ever happened.

I know him. You can take it from me, if there's anything rotten in

a fellow, the show-business will bring it out, and it hasn't come

out in George yet, so I guess it isn't there. George is all

right!"

"He has at least an excellent advocate."

"Oh, I'm strong for George. I wish there were more like him . . .

Well, if you think I've butted in on your private affairs

sufficiently, I suppose I ought to be moving. We've a rehearsal

this afternoon."

"Let it go!" said Lord Marshmoreton boyishly.

"Yes, and how quick do you think they would let me go, if I did?

I'm an honest working-girl, and I can't afford to lose jobs."

Lord Marshmoreton fiddled with his cigar-butt.

"I could offer you an alternative position, if you cared to accept

it."

Billie looked at him keenly. Other men in similar circumstances had

made much the same remark to her. She was conscious of feeling a

little disappointed in her new friend.

"Well?" she said dryly. "Shoot."

"You gathered, no doubt, from Mr. Bevan's conversation, that my

secretary has left me and run away and got married? Would you like

to take her place?"

It was not easy to disconcert Billie Dore, but she was taken aback.

She had been expecting something different.

"You're a shriek, dadda!"

"I'm perfectly serious."

"Can you see me at a castle?"

"I can see you perfectly." Lord Marshmoreton's rather formal manner

left him. "Do please accept, my dear child. I've got to finish this

damned family history some time or other. The family expect me to.

Only yesterday my sister Caroline got me in a corner and bored me

for half an hour about it. I simply can't face the prospect of

getting another Alice Faraday from an agency. Charming girl,

charming girl, of course, but . . . but . . . well, I'll be damned

if I do it, and that's the long and short of it!"

Billie bubbled over with laughter.

"Of all the impulsive kids!" she gurgled. "I never met anyone like

you, dadda! You don't even know that I can use a typewriter."

"I do. Mr. Bevan told me you were an excellent stenographer."

"So George has been boosting me, too, has he?" She mused. "I must

say, I'd love to come. That old place got me when I saw it that day."

"That's settled, then," said Lord Marshmoreton masterfully. "Go to

the theatre and tell them--tell whatever is usual in these cases.

And then go home and pack, and meet me at Waterloo at six o'clock.

The train leaves at six-fifteen."