Denningham was still smiling mockingly.
"Berrington Manor needed a new master—and mistress!" he questioned. "But you must be careful, my friend, in your daydreams, or there will be an unexpected awakening."
"You will explain your words, my lord, or give me satisfaction."
"Ha, ha! You have been a frequenter of the King's Theatre. I grant you John Parkington is superb; but I prefer melodrama only on the stage. I am too prosaic for you, Sir Michael."
"Your prose should be readable then."
"Have I not made it so already? But I assure you, sir, that you must be careful which way you look. Mistress Gabrielle will have the honour of being Lady Denningham one day soon."
"You lie!"
"Tut, tut! ugly words, ugly words, my Irish mongrel. You will do well to be discreet, seeing——"
He nodded towards the hearth.
"You dare——"