Edgar Jepson

“ John Stuart gazed at him in mild wonder.
“Why, what did I say?” he asked.
“Say?” howled Sir Horace, with a sudden grateful fullness of breath. “Do you realize whom you have been speaking to? It's monstrous! Perfectly monstrous! If ever it comes out that you're not the prince, England—England will be too hot to hold me!”
John Stuart frowned upon him.
“Whoever she may be,” he said, “a woman is a woman, and it's a man's duty to set her right.” ”

“ John Stuart had not recovered sufficiently from the shock of the shattering of his edifice to make an intelligible reply. Sir Horace came to his aid.
“It's a great pity that Prince Peter Augustus lets his touchiness grow on him,” he said in a tone of fine impartiality. “It was only a joke, and, after all, what is a joke?”
John Stuart took the cue. He said in his harshest voice:
“A man without a sense of humor is deficient.” ”

“ Good morning, Sir Horace,” she began quickly, “I just ran in to tell you that you're in for a first-class wigging, Richard. It seems that you weren't satisfied with pulling all our legs at lunch yesterday, but went off to the club and pulled the leg of Peter Augustus. Why ever did you tell him that you would try to get him the post of triangle player in a street band? You know how touchy he is, and what a fuss he always makes about your damaging his royal dignity.”
“But-b-but I never——” gasped John Stuart, stopped short, and ground his teeth. ”