"Tall, fair, blue eyes, beautiful complexion, magnificent figure, and the devil's own temper."
"Nice set of qualifications, especially the latter," murmured Ellersby. "Balscombe fond of her?"
"Hey! oh yes--madly! won't let her out of his sight, but he had to to-night as he's off down to his place in Berkshire on business, tried to make her ladyship come to but she wouldn't because of this dance--good Lord--fancy a dance at this time of the year!--but Kerstoke's wife was always slightly cracked!"
"Does Lady Balscombe reciprocate her husband's adoration?"
Marton raised his eyebrows, rubbed his hands and leered significantly.
"Not exactly! hey!" he replied chuckling. "Calliston is first favourite there."
"Eh!--the deuce--I thought he was in love with old Balscombe's ward, Miss Penfold."
"So he is--but he makes love to the wife just to keep his hand in--I wouldn't be surprised if it ended in the Divorce Court."
"Well you are generally right in your surmises," retorted Ellersby, "but what would Miss Penfold say to that?"
"Hey! oh, she'd be glad," replied Marton, "bless you she cares more for Myles Desmond's little finger than she does for the whole body of Calliston."