"But a fair in Rupert's Five-Acre is one thing. A detestable display on the approach to Brayle is quite another. When I heard of it Henry, I was quite prepared to use this riding-crop on the vulgar."
"Sure, Sophie. I know that What's more," said H.M., with a shadow of huge and ghoulish pleasure on his face, "you're goin' to get another beautiful surprise when you look out your bedroom window."
"And you," pounced Lady Brayle, "were responsible. I shall sue—"
"By the way, Sophie, what are they payin' you? The show's here for a week; you bargained for that. What are they payin' you by the day?"
"I believe," answered Lady Brayle, lifting one shoulder with an air of indifference, "it is the beggarly sum of ten pounds."
"Well… no. As a matter of fact you're gettin' sixty."
"Sixty pounds a day?"
"That's right And fifty per cent of the car-park profits. I had to do some swift work on that first part; but here it is." He fumbled inside his breast pocket and took out a cheque. 'This is MacDougall's first of the week's rent D'ye want it or shall I turn it back to him?’'
"This," Lady Brayle conceded with grace and dignity, "somewhat alters the complexion of matters." She allowed a space of silence. "I accept"
"Here you are, then."