This declaration struck him as being sinful and almost infidel in its
radicalism, and yet it seemed to open the way to a logical reason why
some titled bachelor of damaged reputation and tottering finances might
balance his poor assets against a dowry and a social position, even
though he would be compelled to figure Kalora into the bargain.

It must be known that the Governor-General was now simply looking for a
husband for Kalora. He did not hope to top the market or bring down any
notable catch. He favored any alliance that would result in no discredit
to his noble lineage.

"At present they do not even nibble," he soliloquized, still looking at
the ceiling. "They have taken fright for some reason. They may have an
inkling of the awful truth. She is nineteen. Next year she will be
twenty--the year after that twenty-one. Then it would be too late. A
desperate experiment is better than inaction. I have much to gain and
nothing to lose. I must exhibit Kalora. I shall bring the young men to
her. Some of them may take a fancy to her. I have seen people eat sugar
on tomatoes and pepper on ice-cream. There may be in Morovenia one--one
would be sufficient--one bachelor who is no stickler for full-blown
loveliness. I may find a man who has become inoculated with western
heresies and believes that a woman with intellect is desirable, even
though under weight. I may find a fool, or an aristocrat who has
gambled. I may stumble upon good fortune if I put her out among the
young men. Yes, I must exhibit her, but how--how?"

He began reaching into thin air for a pretext and found one. The
inspiration was simple and satisfying.

He would give a garden-party in honor of Mr. Rawley Plumston, the