'Of course.'
'Bright, soft, and girlish as she seems, I suspect there is not a more artful damsel in London,' said Mrs. Lindsay shrewdly.
'Oh bosh, Deb! Well, if it be so, two can do the artful game; but does not your own knowledge of human nature lead you to see,' he added sententiously, 'that art and prudence too give place when love comes on the scene?'
'Love—yes—are you quoting a play? Will this fancy of hers last—if fancy it is?'
'Why not?'
'You are not a gentleman in her sense of the word.'
'You are deuced unpleasant, Deb!' said he, contemplating his spiky nails.
'And her sudden quarrel with Roland Lindsay—if quarrel it was—I do not understand.'
'I do. He is a poor beggar—dropped out of the hunt—and I—I am——'
'What?'