Dunwoodie crossed his legs. "You think me an impertinent old man. I
don't mean to be impertinent. I take a great interest in you."
"Very good of you, I'm sure."
"Not at all. Is your grandmother living?"
"For heaven's sake! You did not know her, did you?"
"No, but I stand ready to take her place."
"You would find it difficult. She is buried in Portugal."
"The place of your grandfather then, the place of any one whom you can
trust."
"But why?"
"Well, let me ask. What are your plans?"
"My plans? Mr. Jones asked me that. I have a sort of a voice and I am
looking for an engagement. But the season is ending. Then too I am told
I ought to change my name. I won't do it."
"Hum! Ha! But it appears that you have."
He's crazy too, thought Cassy, who said: "I don't know what you are
talking about."
Dunwoodie extracted his towel. "Why, my dear young lady, you are Mrs.
Paliser."
Cassy flushed. "I am nothing of the kind. I don't know how you got such
an idea."
Dunwoodie, quite as though he were doing some hard thinking, folded and
refolded that towel which was his handkerchief. "Yet you married Montagu
Paliser, Jr., did you not?"
"Not at all. That is I thought I did, but the man who performed the
ceremony was a gardener."
"Dear me! Is it possible! And where was this?"