"Good heavens!" protested Quarren—"how long can you run on like that?"
"Years and years, my dear fellow. It's in me—born in me! Can you beat it? Though I appear to be a peer appearance is a liar; cast for a part apart from caste, departing I climb higher toward the boards to bore the hordes and lord it, sock and buskin dispensing sweetness, art, and light as per our old friend Ruskin——"
"Dankmere!"
"Heaven-born?"
"Stop!"
"I remain put.... What number do I stick on this gentleman with streaky features?"
"Eighteen. That's a Franz Hals."
"Really?"
"Yes; the records are all here, and the experts agree."
His lordship got down nimbly from the step-ladder and came over to the desk: