bumping on the back seat. I am always glad not to be a
groom--it's a cup-and-ball sort of life, which must be very
wearying.

"Were you ever in love?" she asked, just avoiding a brougham
which contained the Duchess of Dexminster. (If, by the way, I
have to run into anyone, I like it to be a Duchess; you get a
much handsomer paragraph.)

"Yes," said I.

"Often?"

"Oh, not too often, and I always take great care, you know."

"What of?"

"That it shall be quite out of the question, you know. It's not
at all difficult. I only have to avoid persons of moderate
means."

"But aren't you a person of--?"

"Exactly. That's why. So I choose either a pauper--when it's
impossible--or an heiress--when it's preposterous. See?"

"But don't you ever want to get--?" began Miss Phaeton.

"Let's talk about something else," said I.