The Duke in the Suburbs | Page 7

in limb.
I have a steady income of £1,200 a year and a silver property in Nevada
that may very easily bring in ten thousand a year more. Also," he added.
"I love you."
No woman can receive a proposal of marriage, even from an eccentric
young man perched on the top of a step--ladder, without the tremor of
agitation peculiar to the occasion.
Alicia Terrill went hot and cold, flushed and paled with the intensity of
her various emotions, but made no reply.
"Very well then!" said the triumphant Duke. "we will take it as settled.
I will call--"
"Stop!" She had found her voice. Sifting her emotions indignation had
bulked overwhelmingly and she faced him with flaming cheek and the

lightning of scorn in her eyes.
"Did you dare think that your impudent proposal had met with any
other success than the success it deserved?" she blazed. "Did you
imagine because you are so lost to decency, and persecute a girl into
listening to your odious offer, that you could bully her into
acceptance?"
"Yes," he confessed without shame.
"If you were the last man in the world," she stormed, "I would not
accept you. If you were a prince of the blood royal instead of being a
wretched little continental duke with a purchased title "--she permitted
herself the inaccuracy--"if you were a millionaire twenty times over, I
would not marry you!"
"Thank you," said the Duke politely.
"You come here with your egotism and your braggadocio to play triton
to our minnows, but I for one do not intend to be bullied into grovelling
to your dukeship."
"Thank you," said the Duke again.
"But for the fact that I think you have been led away by your conceit
into making this proposal, and that you did not intend it to be the insult
that it is, I would make you pay dearly for your impertinence."
The Duke straightened himself.
"Do I understand that you will not marry me?" he demanded.
"You may most emphatically understand that," she almost snapped.
"Then," said the Duke bitterly. "perhaps if you cannot love me you can
be neighbourly enough to recommend me a good laundry."
This was too much for the girl. She collapsed on to the lawn, and sitting
with her face in her hands, she rocked in a paroxysm of uncontrollable

laughter.
The Duke, after a glance at her, descended the steps in his stateliest
manner.
CHAPTER VI
It was the desire of the Tanneur house, that "Hydeholm " should keep
alive the traditions of its Georgian squiredom. Sir Harry Tanneur spoke
vaguely of "feudal customs" and was wont to stand dejectedly before a
suit of fifteenth--century armour that stood in the great hall, shaking his
head with some despondence at a pernicious modernity which allowed
no scope for steel--clad robbery with violence. The quarterings that
glowed in the great windows of the hall were eloquent of departed
glories. There was a charge, on a field vert, goutte de sang, parted per
fusil, with I know not what lions rampant and lions sejant, boars' heads,
cinquefoils and water budgets, all of which, as Sir Harry would tell you,
formed a blazing memento of the deeds of Sir Folk de Tanneur
(1142--1197). Putting aside the family portraits, the historical
documents, and other misleading data, I speak the truth when I say that
the founder of the Tanneur family was Isaac Tanner, a Canterbury curer
of hides, who acquired a great fortune at the time of the Crimean War,
and having purchased a beautiful estate in Kent, christened the historic
mansion where he had taken up his residence "Hyde House", at once a
challenge to the fastidious county, and an honest tribute to the source of
his wealth. It is a fact that no Tanner--or Tanneur as they style the
name--has reached nearer the patents of nobility than Sir Harry himself
acquired, when he was knighted in 1897 in connexion with the erection
of the Jubilee Alms--Houses.
Sir Harry's son and heir was a heavily--built young man, with a big
vacant face and a small black moustache. He was military in the militia
sense of the word, holding the rank of captain in the 9th battalion of the
Royal West Kent Regiment.
"Hal has a devil of a lot more in him than people gave him credit for,"
was his father's favourite appreciation, and indeed it was popularly

supposed that in Mr. Harry Tanneur's big frame was revived the ancient
courage of Sir Folk, the wisdom of Sir Peter (a contemporary of
Falstaff and one of the Judges who sent Prince Henry to prison), the
subtlety of Sir George (ambassador at the Court of Louis of France),
and the eminently practical cent per cent acumen of his father.
They were seated at breakfast