"Ah, there's where you come in. Well; explain."
"Miss Sarsfield-Mitcham came across the ocean for the purpose of meeting Lord Stranleigh of Wychwood, of whom she had read much in the newspapers, and of whose wealth she imagined her notions were exaggerated, though in reality they fall far short of the truth. She thought that an appeal to this nabob might be successful."
"And the nabob refuses to see her?"
"Curiously enough, Stranleigh, she now refuses to see the nabob, and, if I gave the little lunch at the Ritz, I should need to use some of that diplomacy with which you newly credit me, to induce her to be my guest. She reposes complete confidence in me," said Mackeller, with a note of defiance in his tone, "and believes that I alone will circumvent the enemy."
Lord Stranleigh laughed joyously.
"Oh, Peter, Peter, this is indeed my friend Mackeller in a new light! Is she pretty?"
"Our conversations have been entirely on business," said Mackeller, severely. "She thinks of no one but her father."
"Nevertheless, you must at least have glanced at her. Is she pretty, I asked?"
"Very."
"Intelligent?"
"Very."
"Charming in manner?"
