"Oh, you know what I mean. Is it likely to be serious?"

"Really, I can't say. I offered to go and fetch the doctor in my car,
but she assured me she'd be all right in the morning. What say, Mr.
Dauntless?"

"I didn't speak, Mr. Windomshire."

"I thought you did." More than one at the table had heard Joe's
involuntary chuckle.

"I say, Windomshire, what's the name of that pretty governess over at
Thursdale's?" asked the busy bore. "Saw her this morning."

The Englishman looked down and flecked the ashes from his cigarette
before answering.

"Miss Courtenay," he responded.

"She's a corking pretty girl." Windomshire went through the
unnecessary act of flecking ashes again, but said nothing in reply.
"Are there any more at home like her?" with a fine chuckle in behalf
of his wit.

"She's of a very good family, I believe," said Windomshire, looking
about helplessly. Mrs. Scudaway caught the look in his eyes and
remembered that English gentlemen are not supposed to discuss women
outside of their own set.