"She is the mistress of Lancaster Park."
"Is she nice?"
"She is old and ugly and cross and very rich. Is all that nice, as you define it?"
"No; only the last. It is nice to be rich, of course. That goes without saying. Well, then, is there a master?"
"A master?" vaguely.
"Of Lancaster Park, I mean."
"Oh, yes."
"And is he old and ugly and cross and rich?" pursued Miss West, curiously.
"He is all but the last," declared Lancaster, unblushingly. "He is as poor as Job's turkey. That is not nice, is it?"