’ ‘Like your father,’ Gerald put in deliberately. “I’ll ruin your suit. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. There was another little thing he had to say. The little matter of an accent may be misleading, I grant you, but —’ He was interrupted, and with impatience. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. You are somebody’s secretary, are you not?” It was plain that the subject was distasteful to her, but Ennison, although famous in a small way for his social tact, did not at once discard it. CHAPTER XII. “No, a Queen was at once a political pawn and a social laborer, just as they are today. So long. .
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