took Germaine's hand, and kissed it with an air of gallant devotion.

If he had indeed just fought a duel, there were no signs of it in
his bearing. His air, his voice, were entirely careless. He was a
man whose whole thought at the moment was fixed on his tea and his
punctuality.

He drew a chair near the tea-table for Germaine; sat down himself;
and Sonia handed him a cup of tea with so shaky a hand that the
spoon clinked in the saucer.

"You've been fighting a duel?" said Germaine.

"What! You've heard already?" said the Duke in some surprise.

"I've heard," said Germaine. "Why did you fight it?"

"You're not wounded, your Grace?" said Sonia anxiously.

"Not a scratch," said the Duke, smiling at her.

"Will you be so good as to get on with those wedding-cards, Sonia,"
said Germaine sharply; and Sonia went back to the writing-table.

Turning to the Duke, Germaine said, "Did you fight on my account?"

"Would you be pleased to know that I had fought on your account?"
said the Duke; and there was a faint mocking light in his eyes, far
too faint for the self-satisfied Germaine to perceive.