“Families are like that,” agreed George.

“Nobody knows who he is, but everybody in the county knows all about it.  Those things get about, you know.  Of course, it’s out of the question.  Maud will have to marry somebody awfully rich or with a title.  Her family’s one of the oldest in England, you know.”

“So I understand.”

“It isn’t as if she were the daughter of Lord Peebles, somebody like that.”

“Why Lord Peebles?”

“Well, what I mean to say is,” said Miss Plummer, with a silvery echo of Reggie Byng, “he made his money in whisky.”

“That’s better than spending it that way,” argued George.

Miss Plummer looked puzzled.  “I see what you mean,” she said a little vaguely.  “Lord Marshmoreton is so different.”

“Haughty nobleman stuff, eh?”

“Yes.”

“So you think this mysterious man in Wales hasn’t a chance?”

“Not unless he and Maud elope like Reggie Byng and Alice.  Wasn’t that exciting?  Who would ever have suspected Reggie had the dash to do a thing like that?  Lord Marshmoreton’s new secretary is very pretty, don’t you think?”

“Which is she?”

“The girl in black with the golden hair.”

“Is she Lord Marshmoreton’s secretary?”

“Yes.  She’s an American girl.  I think she’s much nicer than Alice Faraday.  I was talking to her before dinner.  Her name is Dore.  Her father was a captain in the American army, who died without leaving her a penny.  He was the younger son of a very distinguished family, but his family disowned him because he married against their wishes.”

“Something ought to be done to stop these families,” said George.  “They’re always up to something.”

“So Miss Dore had to go out and earn her own living.  It must have been awful for her, mustn’t it, having to give up society.”

“Did she give up society?”

“Oh, yes.  She used to go everywhere in New York before her father died.  I think American girls are wonderful.  They have so much enterprise.”

George at the moment was thinking that it was in imagination that they excelled.

“I wish I could go out and earn my living,” said Miss Plummer.  “But the family won’t dream of it.”

“The family again!” said George sympathetically.  “They’re a perfect curse.”

“I want to go on the stage.  Are you fond of the theatre?”

“Fairly.”

“I love it.  Have you seen Hubert Broadleigh in ’’Twas Once in Spring’?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“He’s wonderful.  Have you see Cynthia Dane in ’A Woman’s No’?”

“I missed that one too.”

“Perhaps you prefer musical pieces?  I saw an awfully good musical comedy before I left town.  It’s called ‘Follow the Girl’.  It’s at the Regal Theatre.  Have you see it?”

“I wrote it.”

“You—­what!”

“That is to say, I wrote the music.”