“Saunders,” said Deppingham, arising and lighting a fresh cigarette, “you have gone clean daft.  You’re loony with love.  You’ve got marriage on the brain.  I’d advise you to take some one for it,”

“Do you mean that for me.  Lord Deppingham?” demanded Miss Pelham sharply.  She glared at him and then slammed her note book on the table.  “You can josh Mr. Saunders, but you can’t josh me.  I’m sick of this job.  Get somebody else to do your work after this.  I’m through.”

“Oh!” exclaimed every one in a panic.  It took nearly ten minutes to pacify the ruffled stenographer.  She finally resumed her place at the table, but her chin was in the air and she turned the pages with a vehemence that left nothing to the imagination.

“I can arrange everything, my lady, so that the ceremony will be regular,” pleaded the unhappy Saunders.  “You have only to go through the form—­”

“But what kind of a form does she follow in stabbing me to mincemeat?  That’s the main law point,” said Deppingham.  “You seem to forget that I am still alive.”

“Perhaps we could arrange for a divorce all round,” cried Saunders, suddenly inspired.

“On what grounds?” laughed Browne.

“Give me time,” said the lawyer.

“It’s barely possible that there is no divorce law in Japat,” remarked Britt, keenly enjoying his confrere’s misery.

“Are you quite sure?”

“Reasonably.  If there was such a law, I’ll bet my head two-thirds of the men in Aratat would be getting rid of wives before night.”

Britt, after this remark, sat very still and thoughtful.  He was turning over the divorce idea in his mind.  He had ridiculed the polygamy scheme, but the divorce proposition might be managed.

“I’m tired,” said Lady Deppingham suddenly.  She yawned and stretched her arms.  “It’s been very entertaining, Saunders, but, really, I think we’d better dress for dinner.  Come, Mr. Browne, shall we look for the Princess?”

“With pleasure, if you’ll promise to spare Deppingham’s life.”

“On condition that you will spare Deppingham’s wife,” very prettily and airily.  Mrs. Browne laughed with amazing good grace, but there was a new expression in her eyes.

“Your ladyship,” called Saunders desperately, “do you approve of my plan?  It’s only a subterfuge—­”

“Heartily!” she exclaimed, with one of her rarest laughs.  “The only objection that I can see to it is that it leaves out my husband and Mrs. Browne.  They are very nice people, Saunders, and you should be more considerate of them.  Come, Mr. Browne.”  She took the American’s arm and gaily danced from the room.  Lord Deppingham’s eyes glowed with pride in his charming wife as he followed with the heartsick Drusilla.  Britt sauntered slowly out and down the stairway, glancing back but once at the undone Saunders.

“I would have won them over if Britt had not interfered,” almost wailed little Mr. Saunders, his eyes glazed with mortification.