ridiculous it would have sounded He had come to hate the very sound of the word "lord."
"It's ten minutes to eight, my lord."
It was Peel's voice that broke in upon his reflections.
"Oh, damn!" cried Bowen as he threw his legs out of bed and sat looking at Peel.
"I beg pardon, my lord?"
"I said damn!" replied Bowen.
"Yes, my lord."
Bowen regarded Peel narrowly. He was confoundedly irritating this morning. He seemed to be my-lording his master specially to annoy him. There was, however, no sign upon Peel's features or in his watery blue eyes indicating that he was other than in his normal frame of mind.
Why couldn't Patricia be sensible? Why must she take up this absurd attitude, contorting every action of his into a covert insult? Why above all things couldn't women be reasonable? Bowen rose, stretched himself and walked across to the bath-room. As he was about to enter he looked over his shoulder.
"If," he said, "you can arrange to remind me of my infernal title as little as possible during the next few days, Peel, I shall feel infinitely obliged."
"Yes, my lord," was the response.
Bowen banged the door savagely, and Peel rang to order breakfast.
During the meal Bowen pondered over the events of the previous evening, and in particular
