“Regarding both.”
“Ah! And who the respective favourites?”
“Say respective finances, your Lordship. They’re engaged. So report has it.”
“And who are to be the Benedicts? Who is Mistress Sabrina to make happy?”
“Sir Richard Walwyn, ’tis said.”
“Dick Walwyn, indeed! An old classmate of mine at Oxford. Well, she might do worse. And the little yellow-haired sprout? She was a bright blonde, I remember, with wonderful tresses, like a Danäe’s shower. Who’s to be the possessor of all that auriferous wealth?”
“One of the Trevors.”
“There’s one of them on the Prince’s staff, I understand. Is it he?”
“No; a cousin—son of Sir William of Abergavenny.”
“What! the young stripling who used to be at Court—one of the gentlemen ushers?”