“Fie, Sir, if she’s gone off with Sir Robin McTart, ’tis, I promise you, with a wedding-ring on her finger, and not else! An she loves him, what’s to be said or done, if he’s her lawful lord?”
“Naught. I myself went down to Kennaston yesterday. I said nothing to you, Ken,” he adds, noting the other’s surprised and reproachful start, with a hand upon his junior’s shoulder.
“I thought I’d not interrupt the epic and your frenzies about Lady Di, with my troubles.”
“Well, what news of Peg? Any?” asks her twin anxiously.
“None. I saw Chockey, and only got from her what Grigson had, the positive assurance that her mistress had gone up to London. ‘Of her own free will?’ I asked. ‘Yes, Sir Percy,’ said she. ‘Alone?’ I inquired. ‘No, Sir Percy,’ was her answer, nor could I force, frighten, or buy the baggage into any further confidence. She did beg of me, however, seek out Her Ladyship, if I could, and find how she fared.”
“Gad’s life, Sir! She has eloped. ’Tis clear as crystal!”
“One thing more, I asked Chock: Had Her Ladyship money in her purse? ‘Lawk, Sir Percy! cried she, ‘two hundred pounds I know of!’”
“‘Two hundred pounds!’” repeats Peg’s twin in vast amazement. “’Tis sure more’n she ever saw before in our whole lives put together. Oh, the girl’s safely wedded, Sir, beyond a doubt!”
“Sir!” says Percy, sitting at the table, with his head low in his hands. “The blackguard’s won her from me!”
“I fear so, Sir.” The two men’s hands meet and grasp in the silent fashion of their sex: ofttimes more eloquent than any words e’er speeched.