not the centuries, clustering houris, with their caresses can seduce it from its hard austerity. I have several titles which for the moment escape me. Baron Llffthwchl am I, and . . . and . . . but you can find them for yourself in Debrett. In me you behold a Prince of the Holy Roman Empire, and a Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter. Look well at me! I am Hereditary Comber of the Queen's Lap-Dogs. I am young. I am handsome. My temper is sweet, and my character without blemish. In fine, Miss Dobson, I am a most desirable parti."
"But," said Zuleika, "I don't love you."
The Duke stamped his foot. "I beg your pardon," he said hastily. "I ought not to have done that. But—you seem to have entirely missed the point of what I was saying."
"No, I haven't," said Zuleika.
"Then what," cried the Duke, standing over her, "what is your reply?"
Said Zuleika, looking up at him, "My reply is that I think you are an awful snob."
The Duke turned on his heel, and strode to the other end of the room. There he stood for some moments, his back to Zuleika.
"I think," she resumed in a slow, meditative voice, "that you are, with the possible exception of a Mr. Edelweiss, the most awful snob I have ever met."
The Duke looked back over his shoulder. He
