He bowed, and laid his snuff-box down open on the table. He had apparently no more to say to her, for he turned to Peregrine, and called him away from the window. “When you have visited a tailor,” he said, “come to me again, and we will discuss what clubs you want me to put your name up for.”
Peregrine came to the table, half sulky, half eager. “Can you have me made a member of White’s?” he asked rather shyly.
“Yes, I can have you made a member of White’s.” said the Earl.
“And—and—Watier’s, is it not?”
“That will be for my friend Mr. Brummell to decide. His decision will not be in your favour if you let him see you in that coat. Go to Weston, in Conduit Street, or to Schweitzer and Davidson, and mention my name.”
“I thought of going to Stultz,” said Peregrine, making a bid for independence.
“By all means, if you wish the whole of London to recognize your tailor at a glance,” shrugged his lordship.
“Oh!” said Peregrine, a little abashed. “Mr. Fitzjohn recommended him to me.”
“So I should imagine,” said the Earl.
Miss Taverner said with an edge to her voice: “Pray, sir, have you no advice to offer me in the matter of my dress?”