and a polite enquiry as to her Excellency's health, Peter said,
with an indicative nod of the head, "Will you be so good as to
remove my responsibility?"

"Il porcellino?" questioned Marietta.

"Ang," said he.

And when Marietta had borne Francois, struggling and squealing
in her arms, from the foreground--

"There--you see how it is done," he remarked.

The Duchessa laughed.

"An object-lesson," she agreed. "An object-lesson in--might
n't one call it the science of Applied Cynicism?"

"Science!" Peter plaintively repudiated the word. "No, no. I
was rather flattering myself it was an art."

"Apropos of art--" said the Duchessa.

She came down two or three steps nearer to the brink of the
river. She produced from behind her back a hand that she had
kept there, and held up for Peter's inspection a grey-and-gold
bound book.

"Apropos of art, I've been reading a novel. Do you know it?"