I wish
there wasn't any title. Oh, it's abominable! Things have come to that
point where an American girl with money is not supposed to care for an
Englishman, no matter how nice he may be, if he has a title, or the
prospect of one. Every one laughs and thinks it's the title she wants;
they'd think it of me, and they'd say it. They would say Beatrice
Lansell took her half-million and bought her a lord. And, after a while,
perhaps Sir Redmond himself would half-believe it--and I couldn't bear
that! And so I am--unbearably flippant and--I should think he'd hate
me!"
"So you reversed the natural order of things, and refused him on
account of the title?" Dick grinned surreptitiously.
"No, I didn't--not quite. I'm afraid he's dreadfully angry with me,
though. I do wish he wasn't such a dear."
"You're the same old Trix. You've got to be held back from the trail
you're supposed to take, or you won't travel it; you'll bolt the other
way. If everybody got together and fought the notion, you would probably
elope with milord inside a week. Mother means well, but she isn't on to
her job a little bit. She ought to turn up her nose at the title."
"No fear of that! I've had it before my eyes till I hate the very
thought of it. I--I wish I could hate him." Beatrice sighed deeply, and
gave her hand to Dorman, who scurried up to her.
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