"You never gave me time to go into my past history," was the plausible reply. "You might have known when you took over a peerage you were letting yourself in for something of the sort. You know it's a way we have."
"A pretty brilliant way, to get tangled up with bush-rangers," sneered Gage.
"He didn't come on the scene till an hour ago. I suppose, by the way," he suggested mischievously, "you would not care to marry her, and so see your way to getting out of bed without damage?"
"Marry ten thousand devils! That's not my idea of fun."
"Lalage is a fine figure of a woman," Peckover continued. "Make an imposing Lady Quorn. Fine mover; takes the drawing-room in three, including anything that stands in the way. The coronet would suit her better if she'd let her hair grow."
"Crops her hair short?" Gage enquired, in a tone of infinite disgust at the picture.
Peckover nodded. "Bit too much of the dragoon for our taste, my boy. You stop in bed, and let me try to get rid of them."
"I won't stop in bed," returned Gage. "Where are these brutes?"
"Sent 'em down to The Pigeons," Peckover answered. "Lady Agatha wouldn't have 'em in the house. Don't blame her. Their manners aren't exactly Vere de Vere. Things were a bit awkward at lunch. Carnaby, the beauty, had been mixing his liquors and fell asleep with his ugly head in the salad bowl, and the tomato which Lalage aimed at him to wake him up, missed, and spattered on Bisgood's shirt-front. Lady Aggy wasn't pleased."
"It's all very well," said Gage sulkily, "but I'm going to get up. The woman can't make me marry her against my will, nor can the great ox, her brother."