"Of course," said I steadily.

"On your honor?"

"Oh, come, Miss Phaeton!"

"Would--would other people think so?" she asked, with a highly
surprising touch of timidity.

"Nobody would," I said. "Only a snarling old wretch would say
so, just because he thought it smart."

There was a long pause. Then Miss Phaeton asked me abruptly:

"You never met him, did you?"

"No."

A pause ensued. We passed the Duchess again, and scratched the
nose of her poodle, which was looking out of the carriage window.
Miss Phaeton flicked Rhino, and the groom behind went plop-plop
on the seat.

"He lives in town, you know," remarked Miss Phaeton.

"They mostly do--and write about the country," said I.

"Why shouldn't they?" she asked fiercely.

"My dear Miss Phaeton, by all means let them," said I.