"Why, come along, then!" shouted the Admiral, dragging him towards the tree.
Lord Otford took off his hat to Mrs. Poskett with an elaborate bow. "I say, Peter, in clover, you rascal!"
"Dam fine woman—what?"
Here Lord Otford caught sight of Marjolaine just disappearing in the doorway of Number Three. He stopped short. "Ay, and pretty gel on door-step." Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, "By Jove!"
"Dainty little thing, eh?" said the Admiral with a chuckle.
"Yes," replied the nobleman, pensively. "Reminds me vaguely—" but he changed the subject. "Well! You're hale and hearty!"
"Nothing amiss with you, neither," laughed Sir Peter, sitting on the bench and drawing his friend down beside him. "I am glad to see you! Thought you was in Russia."
"Got home a month ago, Peter. Not married yet?"
"Peter Antrobus married? That's a good 'un." Up went the Admiral's finger to his nose. "No, my Lord. All women, yes. One woman, no!"
"Sure nobody can hear us?"