"Yes you are. I know you! I know all about it!"
Mr. Bush rolled in his seat.
"Lady Drake's a fine woman," continued the Duke in a rollicking manner—"a damned fine woman!"
He wished to convince himself that the paragon was a rural Don Juan, to which shrewd suspicion Lady Drake had been giving him the lie. Mr. Bush, hearing the name of her ladyship, felt relieved. He had fancied that the Duchess was secretly in question. Now he forced a guffaw and, under the impression that he was being mighty clever, vociferated:
"Lady Drake, she's all right—go along with yer! She knows a thing or two! She's as downy as a goat in autumn, she is."
This remarkable comparison convinced the Duke that Lady Drake had perjured herself when she explained away the episode of the previous night. His suspicions of Mr. Bush increased tenfold.
"You like 'em downy, eh?" he said. "You like a crafty one? What?"
"Rather!" said the paragon, nodding his heavy head and rejoicing in his shrewdness. "Rather!"
"Because you're a downy one yourself? I know you!"