The Duke paid no attention whatever to her.

His face illumined with boyish glee, he lighted lamp after lamp.
Sonia watched him with a smiling admiration of the childlike enthusiasm with which he performed the task.

Even the stolid face of the ox-eyed Irma relaxed into grins, which she smoothed quickly out with a respectful hand.
The Duke had just lighted the twenty-second lamp when in bustled the millionaire.
"What's this?
What's this ?" he cried, stopping short, blinking.
"Just some more of Jacques' foolery!" cried Germaine in tones of the last exasperation.
"But, my dear Duke!--my dear Duke! The oil!--the oil!" cried the millionaire, in a tone of bitter distress.

"Do you think it's my object in life to swell the Rockefeller millions?
We never have more than six lamps burning unless we are holding a reception." "I think it looks so cheerful," said the Duke, looking round on his handiwork with a beaming smile of satisfaction.

"But where are the cars?
Jean seems a deuce of a time bringing them round.