She was greatly amused and interested.
"And Bill has really got his share ready," she cried.

"It is very clever of him." "Yes," I replied, "but Bill is only the very humble instrument, the moving spirit is behind." "Oh, yes, you mean the little girl that owns the pony," she said.
"That's another thing you must tell me about." "The Duke knows more than I," I replied, shifting the burden to him; "my acquaintance is only of yesterday; his is lifelong." "Why have you never told me of her ?" she demanded, turning to the Duke.
"Haven't I told you of the little Meredith girl?
Surely I have," said The Duke, hesitatingly.
"Now, you know quite well you have not, and that means you are deeply interested.

Oh, I know you well," she said, severely.
"He is the most secretive man," she went on to me, "shamefully and ungratefully reserved." The Duke smiled; then said, lazily: "Why, she's just a child.

Why should you be interested in her?
No one was," he added sadly, "till misfortune distinguished her." Her eyes grew soft, and her gay manner changed, and she said to The Duke gently: "Tell me of her now." It was evidently an effort, but he began his story of Gwen from the time he saw her first, years ago, playing in and out of her father's rambling shack, shy and wild as a young fox.

As he went on with his tale, his voice dropped into a low, musical tone, and he seemed as if dreaming aloud.