"
"I was just thinking," she said hastily, "what fun it would be for us
to explore the haunted house."
"Oh, I say, Pen, that's going out of the way for a little fun, isn't
it? My word, it's a filthy old house with rats and mice and all
that--no place for a ghost, much less a nice little human being like
you. They're all like that."
"I think you are afraid to go," said she.
"Afraid of ghosts? Pshaw!" sniffed the duke, sticking out his chest.
"Yes, Shaw! That's whom you're afraid of."
"Now, see here, Pen, you shouldn't say that. Shaw's a d----, a cad.
See what Cecil did to him. Remember that? Well, pooh! What would _I_
do to him?" Penelope looked him over critically.
"I'll admit that you're larger and younger than Cecil," she confessed
grudgingly. "But they say Mr. Shaw is a giant-killer." The duke
dropped his monocle and guffawed loudly.
"Good!" he cried in the ecstasy of pride. His worn, dissipated face
lighted up with unwonted interest. "I say, Pen, that's the nicest
thing you've said to me in a week. You've been so deuced cold of late.
I don't understand. I'm not such a bad lot, you know."
"Tell that to Mrs. De Peyton and Mrs. Corwith. They're looking for the
good in everything."
"By Jove, I believe you're jealous! This is the proudest moment of my
life."
"Don't be silly! And don't try to make love to me any more. Wait until
I'm married," she added with a laugh, the irony of which escaped him.
"But, hang it all, suppose you should marry some one else and not me.
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