A Damsel in Distress

"Don't see it," said Lord Marshmoreton. "The fellow's a thoroughly

decent fellow. That's all that matters."

"How can you be so pig-headed! You are talking like an imbecile.

Your secretary, Miss Dore, is a nice girl. But how would you feel

if Percy were to come to you and say that he was engaged to be

married to her?"

"Exactly!" said Percy. "Quite!"

Lord Marshmoreton rose and moved to the door. He did it with a

certain dignity, but there was a strange hunted expression in his

eyes.

"That would be impossible," he said.

"Precisely," said his sister. "I am glad that you admit it."

Lord Marshmoreton had reached the door, and was standing holding

the handle. He seemed to gather strength from its support.

"I've been meaning to tell you about that," he said.

"About what?"

"About Miss Dore. I married her myself last Wednesday," said Lord

Marshmoreton, and disappeared like a diving duck.