"High time," said the Honourable John Ruffin readily.
"I'm fond of Caroline—in a way—"
"Your own way—an obscure, secret way," said the Honourable John Ruffin in a cheerful tone.
The duke scowled at him, but went on: "You don't know how contrary Caroline is—"
"How should I? I'm not married to her," said the Honourable John Ruffin patiently.
"Well, she is. And I've been thinking that if she found she was getting her way without interference, she wouldn't want it any longer."
The keen grey eyes of the Honourable John Ruffin sparkled:
"By Jove! This is subtlety! Marriage makes Machiavellis of us all. Continue, Solomon," he said, with more respect in his tone.
"But I couldn't think of any way of letting her know she was getting it. It's no use writin' to those scoundrels of lawyers of hers and telling them. She'd only think it was a trap; or she'd think I'd caved in, and be so cockahoop we should never get any forrader. Then I got the idea. It looks a bit roundabout, but I believe it'll work, I do really. But it'll take a lot of working, and I'm wondering whether that little housekeeper of yours—what's her name—Mary Bride—will be up to it."
"What on earth has Pollyooly got to do with it?" cried the Honourable John Ruffin.