Doris twisted her lip.
"Arthur, _do_ think of the bills!"
"Darling, don't be a nuisance! If I succeed I shall make money. And if
this isn't a success I don't know what is." He pointed to the letters on
his lap, an impatient gesture which dislodged a certain number of them,
so that they came rustling to the floor.
"Hullo!--here's one you haven't opened. Another coronet! Gracious! I
believe it's the woman who asked us to dinner a fortnight ago, and we
couldn't go."
Meadows sat up with a jerk, all languor dispelled, and held out his hand
for the letter.
"Lady Dunstable! By George! I thought she'd ask us,--though you don't
deserve it, Doris, for you didn't take any trouble at all about her
first invitation--"
"We were _engaged_!" cried Doris, interrupting him, her eyebrows
mounting.
"We could have got out of it perfectly. But now, listen to this:
"Dear Mr. Meadows,--I hope your wife will excuse my writing to you
instead of to her, as you and I are already acquainted. Can I induce
you both to come to Crosby Ledgers for a week-end, on July 16? We
hope to have a pleasant party, a diplomat or two, the Home
Secretary, and General Hichen--perhaps some others.
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