The British aristocracy liked Mr. Barker, because he was always
inventing original ways of passing the time, and because, though he was
so rich, he never talked about money except in a vague way as "lots of
shekels," or "piles of tin." So they said they would go back to Baden
together, which they did, and as they had talked a good deal about
Claudius, they called on the Countess the same afternoon, and there,
sure enough, was the Swede, sitting by the Countess's side in the
garden, and expounding the works of Mr. Herbert Spencer. Barker and the
Duke remained half an hour, and Claudius would have gone with them, but
Margaret insisted upon finishing the chapter, so he stayed behind.

"He's a gone 'coon, Duke," remarked Barker, beginning to smoke as soon
as he was in the Victoria.

"I should say he was pretty hard hit, myself. I guess nothing better
could have happened." The Duke, in virtue of his possessions in America,
affected to "guess" a little now and then when none of those horrid
people were about.

"Come on, Duke," said Barker, "let us go home, and take them with us."

"I could not go just now. Next month. Autumn, you know. Glories of the
forest and those sort of things."

"Think they would go?"

"Don't know," said the Duke. "Take them over in the yacht, if they
like."