“You have Milton on your side. He wrote:
Satan—than whom no higher sat.
Still, it is generally allowed that Milton wrote bad grammar there.”
Cynthia was awed momentarily—a quotation from “Paradise Lost” always commands respect—so she harked back to an easier topic.
“Is your sister married?”
“Yes.”
“What is her husband?”
“She married rather well, as the saying is. Her husband is a man named Scarland, and he is chiefly interested in pedigree cattle.”
“Let me see,” she mused. “I seem to remember the name; it had something to do with fat cattle, too.... Scarland? Does he exhibit?”
Medenham wished then that he had not been so glib with the Marquis of Scarland’s pet occupation.